


Collide

by LaLaCat1



Series: Dimension Hopping [1]
Category: Young Justice, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, under the red hood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 39,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLaCat1/pseuds/LaLaCat1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Todd finds himself in a Gotham strangely different from the place he calls home, and he's not happy about it. Now he must learn to deal with a Bruce that cares and a Dick Grayson that's only thirteen years old if he ever wants to make it home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. This is a story I have over at Fanfiction.net as well, but I’m going to be making some edits to it and reposting once a week or so on here. The Jason Todd in this story is from the Under The Red Hood movie, and follows the restrictive, harsh guidelines of that slightly more gritty Gotham. Everything else is from Young Justice.  
> Hope you like it.

There was a flash of light, a flair of pain, and suddenly Jason was falling. He had the briefest sensation of every single one of his organs trying to escape his body in different directions before another flash of light seared across his eyes and hard, unyielding concrete slammed into his body. Or maybe it was the other way around, he wasn't in the mood to nitpick.

Jason laid still, fingers grasping uselessly at the ground as his head spun and his hart thudded painfully against his ribs. He took in deep gulps of breath behind his mask, each exhalation an assurance that he wasn't dead. Again.

"Well, that hurt." It took much more effort than he wanted to admit to in order for Jason to reach his hand back to rub at the lump forming even beneath the red helmet.  
The sound of a car horn beeping off in the distance was enough to break Jason out of his daze. He pushed himself to his feet, only to give a strangled gasp as he sunk back down to his knees. With an angry grit of his teeth Jason forced his legs strait and ignored the pain. He was in the same alleyway he'd been in before the flash of light hit him, except…not. Completely not. It looked brighter, less dirty, less run down and destroyed. Kind of like an only slightly maimed version of Gotham's back alleys.

Which made no sense at all.

Footsteps whispered down to him. They were light and well concealed. Whoever was walking knew how to hide the noise their movements made. Knew, but hadn't mastered the art well enough to hide from someone equally as well trained or as paranoid as Jason. Which could only mean trouble. Jason slunk backwards and into the shadows as quickly as his stiff limbs would allow. A large, only slightly rusted dumpster off to the right and a cluster of smaller trash bins served as the most immediate and defensible hiding place. He sunk down behind the debris and pressed to the side of the dumpster. As long as no one looked too closely in his corner of the alleyway he would be fine, and if they did Jason had a another half dozen knives, assorted smoke bombs, and another four rounds in his handgun. It wouldn't be a problem.

A kid dropped from somewhere high above him and landed in a crouch in the center of the alleyway. He too stuck as close to the shadows as his descent and the multiple fire escapes would allow, but it did little good. The costume he wore was too bright to hide in anything but the darkest of nights, and that certainly wasn't tonight. Something deep in the pit of Jason's stomach clenched and twisted at the sight of those colors.

Red and yellow. His red and yellow. The boy glanced left and right, before him and behind. The action only served to display the outfit from multiple angles. There was a bright yellow R on the breast of the boy's red shirt. His cape and pants were both black, with the later lined in the same bright, bright yellow as the insignia. Better then Jason's outfit, less glaringly eye catching, but still unmistakably the costume he'd worn as Robin to Bruce's Batman.

The boy stood up and made a slow, careful inspection around the alleyway, circling all the time around the aria where Jason crash landed. He watched as the white lenses of the boy's mask narrowed slightly to mirror the eyes behind them. The kid stopped moving finally and began to press something on his right glove. Immediately a brightly light holographic image appeared, one that resembled a rounded screen and a keypad. The boy typed furiously at his impromptu computer and frowned.

He raised the hand without the projection up to his ear and tapped something. "Nothing here. It looks like there's faint residue of something just radioactive enough to register on the scales, but not enough to do any damage. Whatever made that light is long gone."

The boy's voice hadn't even deepened yet. He had to be twelve, maybe thirteen, but that was stretching it. He looked small and thin and young in a way Jason never considered before. Had he looked that much like a child when he'd wore that persona? Had Grayson?

The boy listened for a moment, presumably to the other end of a radio, before nodding. "Got it. Heading back to base," he said succinctly.

Whoever was on the other end of the radio ended the conversation. The boy shut down the projection of his computer and the reached for something strapped to his belt. A grappling hook. The same sort Jason once used. He watched as the boy shot a line off and allowed it to pull him up and out of the alleyway. He waited a good dozen heart beats before slipping from his hiding spot and following.

That was Robin. Not one he recognized either. It couldn't be Grayson, he was far too old and off playing Nightwing in any case. Jason had been under the very satisfied and slightly relieved impression that the Robin legacy had died with him all those years ago. It'd been more than five years, and there hadn't been a single sighting of the Boy Wonder. Why was there one now? Why here?

It could be a trick, a trap set up to lure him into following and then ambush him while he wasn't expecting it. That would be stupid, and a massive waste of time, but there was no telling how a criminal would think. The only person that know, that even guessed at why such a set up might work was currently doped out of his twisted mind, rotting in a cell in Arkham Asylum. Then again, there was always the possibility that the kid was a rich brat with too much time on his hands and a case of hero worshiping that could get him killed.  
Unlikely with the sort of toys he was sporting, but still technically possible.

The boy led him on a calm loop around Gotham and to a well concealed red and black motorcycle on the outskirts of the city. The kid dropped down into the seat and kicked the engine into life. Jason considered his options. Take the kid down now and interrogate him, or stick a tracer on him and wait to see how this played out.  
Jason always liked a good mystery.

He crept as close to the boy as he dared to get, assuming that the kid had the same sort of training he'd been given by Bruce. Jason was good, but he had no idea where his new little friend ranked on the talent scale. Well, he supposed as he fished the small tracer out of one of his pockets and took careful aim, we're about to have test number one. He timed his throw to the exact moment the bike gave its last roar into wakefulness, so that the slight click of metal on metal would go unnoticed. He waited, poised to spring into action if need be, but the boy gave no indication that he'd heard anything at all. Instead he pulled swiftly out of the alleyway and headed at top speed for the highway.

Someone should tell him it's dangerous to drive so fast, the Bat'd be pissed, Jason mused, fishing in another pocket. He pulled out a small GPS, resting it easily in his hand. It connected to the satellite without any problem, and for some reason that made something Jason hadn't realized was tensing in his stomach loosen. He watched as a small red dot blinked across the screen, heading north. Away from the Bruce's manor.

"Let the chase begin," he muttered the corners of his lips quirking upwards.


	2. Chapter 2

The kid led Jason on a wild goose chase all over Gotham. At one point Jason thought he’d lost the boy altogether, because he turned a corner and the fake Robin and his bike were gone. Like, never-even-there-in-the-first-place kind of gone. If not for the soft blinking of the red light mapping the kid’s movement on Jason’s tracker he would assume the bug had been spotted and destroyed. Instead, it showed the boy in downtown Gotham, close to the narrows, and then all the way out in Happy Harbor in less than a second.  
Jason was a lot of things, maybe even crazy, but he knew for sure that nothing Bruce had could teleport someone half a state away. Nothing Bruce had, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t someone else who could have developed the technology. Hell, if they could make that fucking Amazo robot of doom someone had to have the tech to make teleportation a thing. 

That didn’t explain how the kid had access to it, but Jason was happy enough to add that onto the list of questions he’d ask once he got his hands on the boy.

One count of grand theft auto latter and Jason was in Happy Harbor. He arrived in the earliest hours of morning, when most of the vacationers and locals were still tucked up all snug in their beds. A large mountain right on the edge of town wasn't exactly what he would have expected find as the location of some sort of secret base, but Jason supposed it was more covert then the Bat Cave. Not by much, but Bruce always did have a flair for the dramatic. Jason could see him thinking a hollowed out mountain right in the middle of a vacation harbor would be a perfect location. It was the whole “hiding in plain sight” thing Bruce thrived off of.

Jason watched and waited. There was no point in rushing into something halfcocked and totally devoid of intel. He needed a plan, needed to know what was going on before deciding to make a move. Gotham would still be a shit show no matter how long Jason observed the mountain, so there was no rush. This time, more than any other, caution proved to be a life saver.

The mountain was home to six children off and on, as well as two adults. The children were largely unremarkable at first glance, but Jason quickly realized the error in that assessment. There were two girls and four boys, with his Robin ranking quite clearly as the youngest of the lot. One of the boys was red haired and moved literally at the speed of light. Jason never saw him approach the mountain; one second the place looked deserted and then next the boy was there press a key code into a pad Jason hadn’t noticed to enter the base. Redhead didn't seem to actually live at the harbor, but by three-ten every day he was there. Earlier even on a few occasions.

The tallest and darkest of the boys routinely made his way down from the mountain to the bay each morning, where he would swim laps that took him out farther then Jason’s naked eye could follow. On his first appearance Jason only just managed to conceal himself in time to avoid being spotted. The boy was somewhere in his mid to late teens, around sixteen, possibly seventeen, and he had gills. Also, fins on the back of his thighs. And webbing between his fingers. He may or may not have shot electrical sparks over his hands once while stretching down on the beach.

Like a fucking eel.

The forth boy was equally as tall as Fish Kid, but about ten times broader. He ripped the handlebars on his motorcycle clean off the bike on day five of the stakeout. The kid looked contrite about the whole thing, and Robin looked like his best friend had been maimed, but none of the other children seemed concerned that solid steel had just been bent and twisted like warm taffy. The big guy also had an attitude problem that made Jason feel like rolling his eyes so hard they fell right out of his head.

One of the girls was green, and had the unpleasant tendency of disappear at inopportune times. Also, she could fly. Combined, the two abilities made her the most concerning of the children. She didn't seem to be actively looking for any threats around the base, but even still Jason would feel much better once he'd put more space between himself and Green Girl.  
The other girls was blond, mouthy, and smart enough to always scan her surroundings before entering the base but not skilled enough to ever spot him. Judging by the bow and arrows she had with her, long-range combat was her forte. Jason supposed he'd just have to stick close if they ever came to blows.

There was a blond women and a robot prowling around at alternate times as well, but he never saw either do anything remarkable other then be present. It was a positive fun house of crazy all collected in one place. Any one of those kids had the potential to do some serious damage, and that was only based on watching them do nothing other than breath. Jason had no idea what the women was feeding those kids, but he sure as hell wanted some.

He understood now why Bruce had always given the metas and supers in other cities such a wide berth. 

It would be idiotic to try and get at Robin when he was surrounded by so many freaks, but Jason was nothing if not persistent. He waited. He planned. He used every scrap of insight Bruce drilled into his head as a kid and he made sure to be ready. Robin would be alone at least part of the way from the base to the outskirts of Gotham once a week, until Bruce picked him up. The rest of the time he would do the teleportation thing and just ping himself back into Gotham. There was only a three hour stretch, once a week, where the kid was vulnerable. That was the window Jason needed to act.

And that was what found him lying in wait beside the dusty rural road leading from Happy Harbor to Gotham City. There was a cabin about half an hour's drive from the curve in the road where he'd stashed the stolen car—minus one license plate—behind some bushes. It was well out of sight from the road. A cable attached to the thick tree across the two lane highway, slack and hidden under dust and its own clear color, ran from one side of the street to the other. The plan was simple, but effective. Robin would never see the cable in time to stop, and as soon as Jason pulled it tight the kid would find himself removed from the motorcycle.

He ignored the fact that the boy could potentially be injured by this plan, because anyone Batman trained sure as hell better know how to fall right no matter how fast they were going.

He didn't have long to wait. At half past noon the kid showed. Just when any chance of breaking was past, Jason tripped the cable and watched as it bounced up from the ground. The kid jerked the bike to the side, realized there was no hope, and somehow pulled his feet all the way up onto the seat and pushed off in the span of five seconds. The boy flipped in the air, hands already filled with little bat shaped throwing stars. He landed in a perfect crouch as the bike skidded off the road to his left.

"Well, I'm impressed," Jason quipped, stepping out fully into view.

The kid hesitated, and Jason watched as his fingers tightened around the knives. "Well, I'm whelmed. Nice mask," the kid responded. He sank into a slightly deeper crouch, one more suited to reacting then instigating a fight.

"I could say the same, kid. I think you and I need to have a heart to heart here. You have two options. Option one; you sit down, behave and answer my questions. Then there is option two; I make you sit down, behave and answer my questions," said Jason calmly.

The boy gave a snort of derision and whipped his hand out. The throwing knife shot at the spot Jason stood. He twisted to the side, noting with interest that the blade hadn't been aimed at anything vital. Old Bats was still stuck on teaching his protégé's not to kill, even when it ended up getting them killed instead. Something bitter churned deep in Jason's chest as he charged the boy.

Robin leapt up over his punch. His hands came down hard on Jason's shoulders, and he could feel the boy's fingers closing tightly onto his jacket. He knew this move, had used it himself as a kid against bigger and stronger opponents. He also knew how to stop it. Jason twisted hard to the side and pitched himself forward, dragging the boy along for the ride with the initial jerk. Robin released him, kicking out and connecting his heel with the back of Jason's mask.  
He rolled forward, allowing the moment of the kick to carry him all the way through a roll and back to his feet. He pressed down on the small, round trigger of one of his smoke bombs and intentionally threw it to the left of the kid. Robin dogged right, just as Jason expected, and it brought him into Jason's arm reach. The kid managed to block the first three blow, but not the forth.

It sent him staggering backwards, clutching at his stomach and gasping. He bared his teeth at Jason in something that could have been a smirk, but looked too much like a poorly disguised grimace for Jason to believe it.

"Just sit this one out, kid. Really, this doesn't have to be painful," he said again. If he was in the boy's position he wouldn't believe anything some stranger in a mask was spouting, but there was always the chance that Bruce got a less cynical sidekick this time around.

As it turned out, Bruce hadn’t. The boy dove at Jason, his fists flying, his feet connecting with sensitive pressure points along Jason's legs with what felt like steel toes.  
"Sorry, kid," Jason muttered behind the mask. He caught the blow aimed for his throat and used it to pull the boy forward. Right into his fist. The kid gasped and spluttered as every last ounce of air was expelled from his lungs. He went slack.

Jason deposited the boy carefully onto the ground. They had to get out of here quickly. As much as he would love to have a nice, long chat with Bruce, he was more interested in having a bonding session with his replacement at the moment. Batman could wait, it was Robin time now. Time that would be intruded upon rather quickly if Jason didn't get the tracker out of the boy's suit.

It was always in the left, upper thigh on his old costumes, closer to the hip bone. Bruce reasoned that was the least likely place for someone to look, least likely place to be ripped off and the least likely place to cause injuries during a mission. It was well concealed on the kid's version, hidden between a strip of Kevlar and fabric. If Jason hadn't known to look in that location he never would have found it.  
The boy groaned.

"Sorry kid, it's nap time now," Jason said softly. He pulled a small, round ball from his pocket and pressed the circular trigger. Thick smoke filled the air slowly at first, and then in dense clouds issuing from the ball.

The boy gave an unhappy mumble and went boneless once more.


	3. Chapter 3

The kid hadn't moved in the last hour. Jason wasn't really expecting him to just pop up and be ready to chat immediately, but it hadn't occurred to him that an hour would pass before enough of the sedative worked its way out of the kid's system for him to wake up. It left him plenty of time to rifle through the boy's toys. Bruce certainly was equipping his sidekick with some fancy gadgets.

He ended up having to take the boots, both gloves and the belt off of the kid in order to be sure he wasn't going to get a bat shaped knife in the back when he least expected it. Even then Jason couldn't be sure he'd gotten everything the boy had hidden on him. Currently he was examining the glove with the minicomputer embedded in it, the boy tied to a rickety old chair facing Jason.

The boy's head lolled on his shoulders and he muttered something caustic under his breath. Jason grinned. Bruce wouldn't be pleased to hear such vulgar language coming from his little Robin.

"Good morning, Sunshine. Dose Batman know you talk like that?" Jason asked, setting the glove down on the floor behind his own chair and well out of the way of the boy, even if his hands hadn't been bound behind his back and through the seat spokes.

Robin blinked very slowly at him, head still hanging low. It was hard to say just how much of that was an act and how much was the boy honestly not being able to fight off the effects of the drug. Which was odd. Batman made sure Jason was largely immune to the sedative gas they carried with them, just in case. His current formula as the same. This boy should have been able to fight the gas off. Which meant he was probably faking.

"Who're you?" the boy asked. Except his voice slurred together badly, so that it took Jason a moment to decode what he'd just heard.

"Batman never told you about me?" he asked with a casual air, leaning forward in his chair to rest his forearms against his legs.

The boy frowned and said nothing. Jason took that to mean no, Bruce never told the kid he was a replacement for a dead man. Jason side.

"Don't know you," the boy finally growled.

"You could say I'm like you're prototype. You're trial run, to work out all the kinks. How long you been working for Bruce?" he added, sharp and hot and more angry than he should be. It wasn't that he thought Bruce was trying to replace him, not when the man nearly blow himself to kingdom-come last month just to help Jason. It had more to do with the fact that he could fit his hands around both of this boy's wrists and still have room to spare, the fact that the boy was smaller than Jason had been when he started. Hell, Grayson was hitting the rooftops at ten and he was probably bigger than this kid as well.

The boy was stiff and still in his restraints. It looked like he wasn't even breathing, like he was stuck in a moment of complete and utter shock. Very slowly he forced himself as far upright as the restraints would allow for and smoothed out his expression. He did a good job, all things considered. The momentary flash of shock was gone quick enough that, had Jason been anyone else, the kid might have gotten away with it.

"Who?" he asked instead, staring at the slits for eye holes in Jason's mask. It was kind of cute, the way the kid was trying to protect Bruce. Useless, but the thought was nice.

"Bruce Wayne. Billionaire. Likes to hang out in a cave under the south corner of his mansion, jump off buildings and dress up like a bat at night. Sure you know the guy," Jason continued blithely. With each word the boy looked a little more disinterested.

"The rich guy? Really? You think I know Bruce Wayne? Or that he's Batman or something? Get real. He probably can't even tie his own shoes without help," the little Robin said flippantly, and this time his voice only slurred a little bit.

Jason grinned widely. So this was how the kid was going to play it? The second he'd found that tracker on the kid any doubt Jason had regarding his authenticity had vanished. That was a Bruce move through and through. This kid could lie all he wanted but the truth would still be the same.

There was an easy fix to this. Jason griped the bottom of his chair and pulled it closer to the boy, so that their knees were touching. The kid immediately went tense again, but there was nothing he could really do about the situation. His feet weren't bound, but without the steel toed boots it wasn't like a little kick was going to do much to stop Jason. He reached out and ran his fingers along the edges of the kid's mask. The boy jerked his head backwards and kicked Jason so hard in the kneecap that his whole leg went numb.

"Fuck! You hit pretty hard for such a little guy," he said, laughing lightly and rubbing at his sore leg.

Robin tucked his feet up as close to his body as he could and kicked out with them, catching Jason fully in the stomach. He grunted in equal parts pain and surprise, but stayed mostly upright in his chair. The kid, on the other hand, did not. The force of his kick sent his seat careening over backwards to hit the ground with a hard, soled thud. The boy's head bounced of the back of the high seat, which was probably better than the floor, but still painful looking.

"You give yourself brain damage from pulling stunts like that and you better not blame me," commented Jason. He stood up from the chair and moved over to stand beside the boy.

Between the blow to the head and the lingering effects of the drug the kid wasn't looking too good. Despite how angry having another Robin around made Jason he still didn't actually want to hurt the kid. He wasn't the one to blame in all of this. Taking careful note not to get in the way of anymore kicks, Jason pulled chair back upright. The boy looked like he would have slid right off and onto the floor if not for the ropes keeping him in place.

"Don't freak out this time. I'm taking this off to make sure you didn't give yourself a concussion," he added, fingering the mask again.

"Right, because kidnappers are so concerned about the kidnap-ie's health," Robin mumbled, trying to move his head away once more but far less violently.

"Kid, you were out for over an hour. If I wanted to I would have hurt you then. I just wanted to talk, you made that a little bit difficult, remember?"

The mask was glued on fairly well, but the adhesive felt the same as the one Jason used to use. It wasn't water soluble, and held strong, but would peel off like rubber cement if worked properly. It would hurt, like taking off a band aid, but there was no helping that.

"You tried to close line me on a motorcycle. I think I'm allowed to find you not-talking-to-material," the boy hissed. He wouldn't hold his head still and his feet were thrashing like he thought that was going to help somehow, and if he didn't sit still the chair would tip over again. Jason was tempted to let it happen and leave the boy stuck on his back like a turtle.

Instead he griped the kid's chin with one hand and held strong, bracing his arm against the boy's chest to help keep them still. With his other hand he caught the edge of the boy's mask and pulled. Hard. The boy gave a loud shout and cursed, eyes wide in pain before he snapped them shut.

It didn't matter. Jason had already seen those blue, blue eyes. There was only one person in the world that he knew of with eyes that color.

"Who are you?" he asked carefully. He turned the boy's head to the right, so that they were more or less facing each other. The boy kept his eyes closed. "Are you related to Richard Grayson?"

"What?" The boy demanded. His eyes popped open again before he could stop himself. He looked younger somehow without the mask. Like a tiny, skinny version of the man who's shoes Jason spent years trying to fill.

"Richard Grayson. Are you related to him? You look just like him," Jason prodded. Somehow that made this worse. He didn't know Grayson had a kid, certainly not one that was this little, but what other explanation was there? And that meant Grayson had to have let his son go and run off to Gotham and play superhero at night with Bruce. How could he do that? How, after what happened to Jason?

The boy watched him for a long moment, like he was waiting for the punch line of a joke. When Jason did nothing but watch him in return and thank the mask for hiding the anger on his face the boy frowned. His very blue eyes moved over the smooth mask carefully.

"Is this some sort of joke?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Hard to say. Right now you look like you're doing a bad impression of Red Tornado," the boy quipped.

There was a moment of silence. The boy raised an expectant eyebrow. "Cute," Jason conceded. Would have been cuter if he had any idea who Red Tornado was, but he'd work with what he had. If the kid didn't want to admit to being Grayson's son he didn't have to. With such similar features there was very little left to the imagination.

"But seriously. Do you never watch TV? Or read the newspaper? You didn't seem dumb in the beginning," the boy continued. "For a guy that claims to know Batman and Bruce Wayne so well you're kind of missing some important information here."

Jason wondered fleetingly if he'd been that mouthy when he was Robin. The kid was brave enough, but then again, what child wouldn't be when he had Nightwing for a father and Batman for a partner? Hurting this kid would be asking for more trouble than most criminals would bother with. Maybe that was why Grayson let his son run off into danger.

"So what's you name kid? Dick Jr.? Little Birdy? Maybe he named you after Bruce?" said Jason, ignoring the boy's earlier comments entirely.

Robin hunched his shoulders and frowned. His bottom lip jutted out over so slightly, making the expression more of a pout then the glare he suspected it was meant to be. It was hard to take the anger of a kid that only came up to his chest all that seriously. Even if he did pack a nasty kick.

"Seriously?" he said, watching Jason like a hawk. His shoulders rotated and his right elbow moved in a funny way that was only partially hidden by his body. Despite the fact that Jason was sure he'd taken most of the boy's weapons off of him, he wasn't in the mood to take any chances by not checking on whatever the kid was doing.

The thought had only just passed through his head when the boy moved. His arms slipped free of the chair, rope still looped around one wrist. He aimed a hard punch for Jason's face, forcing Jason to jerk backwards and knock over his own chair. Somehow the boy twisted half way through his punch and ended up driving his heel into Jason's neck.

There wasn't enough force behind the blow to do any real damage, but it was enough to cause Jason to gasp and choke. His hands jerked into motion before he really thought about what he was doing, instinct taking over. One graded the boy's ankle before he managed to pull his foot away, and the other wrapped protectively around the reddening spot on his throat. He twisted, slamming the boy into the discarded chairs and then the ground.

The kid gave a sharp gasp and curled in on himself, griping his head and gritting his teeth. The roar of adrenalin began to seep away from Jason, and in its place was guilt. The kid was still drugged, whether he acted like it or not. That throw hadn't been particularly hard or particularly fast, just a means of getting the kid out of striking distance. He should have been able to control his fall.

He hadn't even been able to protect his head on the way down.

Jason gave a sharp curse and dropped to his knees beside the kid. Very gently, he pried the boy's fingers away from his skull and ran his fingers over the spot they had covered. A bump was already forming. Despite his claims that he wouldn't care if the boy gave himself a concussion, Jason felt something squirm guiltily in his stomach. He didn't want to hurt this child, he just wanted answers. Answers he wouldn't give if their positions had been reversed.  
"Hay, take a deep breath. I'm sorry, kid. I didn't mean—"

The door exploded inwards in a shower of splinters and gunpowder smoke. Jason curled slightly over the boy, protecting him for the shards of wood as one bounced off his mask with a dull clatter. A shape, dark and large and angry, was suddenly in the room, charging at Jason with black clad fists. He dodged the first blow and put as much distance as possibly between himself and his attacker before a second could make contact.

Batman crouched between the boy on the ground and Jason, every line of his body tight and ready. A rage that caught Jason completely by surprise rolled off of Bruce in waves. It was almost a tangible thing in the air between them.

"Are you alright?" he asked the boy, never taking is eyes off of Jason.

"Could be better. Definitely not feeling the aster," the boy grumbled. He pushed himself up to his knees, nearly reached his feet, and then crashed back onto the floor. He had to catch himself with his hands to keep from hitting the ground face first.

"What did you do to him?" Bruce demanded, and his voice was like poison.

Jason bristled. The way Bruce said it made it sound like he thought Jason would actually hurt the kid. Like he intended to all along and Batman showing up had somehow prevented that. Did he mean so little to Bruce now that he'd honestly believe Jason capable of something so low?

"Nothing. It's your fault he's like that to begin with. Since when did you stop teaching your sidekicks to be immune to your knockout gas?" he snapped, gesturing towards the boy. Blue eyes blinked slowly back at him.

The eyes of Batman's mask narrowed dangerously. He moved slightly to the right, hiding the boy from view behind his cape. "Who are you?"

Something constricted around Jason's heart. For a moment he could do nothing but stare at Bruce, nothing but trace the lines of his mask with wide, hurt eyes. Eyes that no one could see behind his own mask. How could he ask that? How? There was no way he'd forgotten their run in less than a month ago. No way he'd already forgotten about Jason.

"If you're pretending not to know me because of the kid, don't bother. I already told him who he's replacing. What I don't understand is why Grayson would let you run around with his kid after what happened to me," he said harshly, an accusation plain in his voice. After what you let happen to me. He hadn't blamed Bruce before, but he was coming dangerously close to blaming him now.

There was a moment of confused silence after his outburst. Bruce continued to watch him, expecting another attack, and Jason continued to glair at him, waiting for some sign of recognition.

"He said he was the first Robin," said the kid, breaking the mute stare down. He peered around Bruce's cape, but the hand he had resting on Bruce's right arm for support shook ever so slightly. Jason frowned. Between the gas and that blow to the head, the kid had to be hurting.

"I said I was Robin before you, not that I was the first one. Richard Grayson came first," Jason corrected. Some of the bitterness he felt towards Grayson, and Bruce and this moment made its way into the response, but the boy didn't look like he noticed the tone.

Instead he exchanged a brief glance with Bruce, who shifted in front of the kid once more, ignoring the annoyed grumble that followed.

"Take off the mask," Batman commanded, focusing once more of Jason.

He shrugged in response and pulled the mask off without so much as a second thought. He still had the Robin mask on underneath the metal one, so either way he was covered. Bruce already knew his true identity, but the kid didn't. He'd yet to decide whether or not he would try to keep it that way.

His face inspired no more recognition then the conversation preceding its revelation had inspired. Bruce didn't look any more willing to admit to knowing Jason. Maybe if he rattled off Bruce's social security number, something he'd memorized back in his youth simply because he could, Bruce would be more willing to admit to recognizing him.

"Do you know who I am?" Batman asked carefully. He didn't sound quite as violently angry anymore.

"Bruce Wayne, the richest asshole in Gotham," Jason responded.

Bruce stiffened ever so slightly, exactly the way that the boy had when Jason started dropping names. Bruce stared at him, lips turned down into a hard frown. Just as carefully as before he asked, "Do you know the boy?"

Jason shrugged. This twenty questions game was starting to bother him. More than that, it was starting to unnerve him. Bruce could be mean when he wanted to be, but he was rarely cruel and never to someone like Jason. Never so someone he'd worked and lived with like family.

"Someone related to Richard Grayson. They look too similar for anything else."

"What year is it?"

That was an asinine question. Jason grit his teeth and considered not answering at all when the boy popped his head around Bruce's extended arm. He looked slightly concerned now. Also slightly nauseous. Bruce should be taking the kid home and having Alfred check him over, not standing here playing fake inquisitor. Because the kid didn't look like he'd hold out for much longer, Jason rattled off the date. He did it with as much bad grace as he could fit into a month and a year.

Bruce's arms fell back to his sides. The boy blinked again, the dazed look in his eyes slightly more pronounced now.

"We need to contact the League," Bruce muttered. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. Jason has no idea who the League was and didn't like the pitying look Grayson's little clone was sending his way. Didn't like it one bit.


	4. Chapter 4

The League, as it turned out, was a collection of supper powered freaks all belonging to the same club. Jason couldn't be sure, but it seemed like Bruce ran the show. There was a green man similar to the green girl back at the kid's club house in the mountain, as well as a man in red that moved so quickly it literally hurt Jason's head trying to keep up with him. Two of the freaks had wings like giant birds and carried around hammers, and some women in the group was running around in her one-piece and boots. There was even a guy who sported all the colors of the American flag and who looked large enough to give the strong kid Grayson's son hung out with a run for his money. Every single one of them watched Jason like the expected him to spontaneously combust and burn the whole cabin down with him.

Bruce stood off to one side of the now cramped cabin, conversing in low tones with Bathing Suit Women and Green Guy. They had names, but Jason didn't care enough to remember them. Should anyone in this room become a threat it was better to not have a name to attach to the face. Less humanized, easier to fight.

The red speed demon zipped to the kid. He flitted from spot to spot around the boy, talking incessantly and at a pace that was incomprehensible as he assured himself Grayson's kid was alright. It was hurting Jason's head just watching, he could only imagine how much worse it must be for the boy. It was hard to tell now that he had his mask back on, something Bruce made sure of before contacting his club of freaks, but Jason was fairly certain the kid had to be close to hurling. The boy was sitting on the edge of the mattress and had one hand cradling his skull.

"Slow down before you make the kid puke," Jason grumbled.

The guy in the patriotic colors frowned and crossed his arm, exuding an imposing air from his post beside the bed. Jason ignored him and his disapproval. The speedy guy paused, one hand on the kid's shoulder, and looked up at Jason. He too was frowning, but most of his face was covered by a mask so the expression was slightly less imposing then it could have been. There was a reason Jason designed his mask to cover all of his face; imagination was almost always more frightening then fact. Only Bruce ever managed to pull off that sort of glare in costume and not look ridiculous.

"Robin could have been seriously hurt. That was a poor stunt to pull, especially if you really do know him personally," speedy guy said, gesturing back at the kid. The tone of parental disapproval was unexpected somehow. This guy had nothing but Jason's word that he hadn't intended to hurt Grayson's kid, and it was one thing for Bruce to work off of that but it was another thing entirely for this man to do the same.

"That claim is what we're going to be looking into." Bruce came up beside the boy and his brightly clad defenders. Bruce didn't respond to the inquiring look the speedy guy gave him, instead choosing to focus on the one with the muscles.

"Take him home and see that he's looked after," Brace said, locking eyes with star spangled banner man. "I'll update you as information becomes available."

The man glanced between Bruce and Jason with hesitation. Even with his large size, it was clear there was a pecking order here and Bruce was at the top on the list. "Are you sure—"

"Yes. Take him home, Superman." There was absolutely no arguing with Bruce when he used that tone and Jason was pleased to see that this applied to behemoth muscled men in spandex with stupid names. The last hour's worth of suspicious glowering from Superman had inspired less than fond feelings for him. It kind of mad Jason glad Bruce didn't associate with the heroes from other cities.

Superman nodded and uncrossed his arms with more grace then Jason would have given him credit for. He bent down and scooped the kid up in one careful, smooth motion, the red guy helping to guide the process even thought it was mostly unnecessary. The kid looked smaller somehow, and paler next to all those bright primary colors.

While Bruce's obviously bad mood as enough to subdue Superman, it was not enough to keep the kid from arguing. He tried to pull himself out of the large arms holding him, but even Jason could see that the effort was useless.

"I don't want to go—"

"It wasn't a negotiation," Bruce replied flatly.

The kid struggled harder. "But—"

Jason stepped forward and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. He pointedly ignored the way everyone in the immediate vicinity tensed, and the way Bruce's hand cupped as a throwing knife dropped, ready and sharp, into it. Even the one with the super speed looked like he was half a second away from tackling Jason, and he was the only one that had actually spoken to Jason so far, other then Bruce and the kid. So much for trust.

The kid regarded Jason with some uncertainty. He hadn't flinched at the contact, but he wasn't looking particularly pleased with it either.

"Go home and have yourself looked over by the old man," Jason said firmly. He waited for the slight nod indicating the kid knew who he was talking about and then added, "I haven't had one of his cookies in years. Are they still as good as I remember?"

The corners of the kid's lips quirked upwards into a lopsided smirk. "They are. And your deflection sucks, I'm too old for cookies to be enough to make me go home."

"Ah, but you are never too old for cookies if he's the one making them," said Jason waging a finger at the boy.

A look of confused discomfort flitted back and forth between Superman and the fast guy, but died long before it got to Bruce. He just watched Jason, eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a considering and thin line. Something about that exchange had confused him, which was stupid because he knew how much Jason loved Alfred's baking.

Superman mumbled a brief goodbye and then flew out of the room, the kid held secure against his massive chest. The sight of a flying man in tights did not set Jason on edge. Not at all. The green man that appeared out of nowhere next to him? That one was enough to make Jason jump out of his skin and scramble closer to the bed for some distance. He was beginning to seriously dislike green people.

"My apologies, I did not mean to startle you," Green Man said.

Jason gave a very disbelieving laugh and muttered, "Sure you didn't."

"This is the Martian Manhunter," Bruce said briskly. Now that the kid was gone he sounded more businesslike, more Batman like, then he had before. It was almost a comfort. Bruce acting even remotely nice and paternal was unsettling and definitely not what Jason was used to. "He's going to scan your thoughts. He'll be able to confirm the date you gave before, as well as the authenticity of the rest of your story."

Jason raised an eye brow. He wanted his mask back, not just the little one he wore underneath it, but Bruce handed it to Green Man when he showed up and now one of the bird people had it. Jason felt exposed and he didn't like it one bit. There was no reason Bruce should need for him to jump through all these hoops, and the circus worth of freaks all around them were making Jason's skin itch.

"You realize how stupid everything you just said sounds, right?" he asked. He crossed his arms over his chest and felt better as soon as his fingers touched one of the thin throwing knife he had strapped under his left arm.

"I can assure you that it will not be painful," the Manhunter said. He sounded very calm and very polite. Jason kind of hated him.

He wanted to point out the sheer ridiculousness of the request as well. Read his mind? Really, that's what they were going with nowadays? How realistic was it to tell him someone was going to be poking around in his head? Even as the thought occurred to him another one pushed it out of the way. It wasn't really like he had much room to talk, considering he'd died and been brought back to life by a convenient dip in a magic pond. That still might not have been enough to convince him to go through with this circus act, had he not taken the moment to glance at Bruce again.

Before, with the kid hurt and then all these people showing up out of thin air to stand around looking accusing, Jason hadn't noticed it. There hadn't been time. Now, however, now he had a good, long look at Bruce and realized that the face staring back at him from beneath the mask was not the same face from his memories. The skin around Bruce's mouth was tighter, less wrinkled and the perpetual frown lines were not present. He looked like the last five years' worth of stress and grief from Jason's death had simply been wiped away.

He turned back to the Manhunter, because looking at Bruce was making something snakelike and cold thrash around in his stomach. He gave one short, tight nod of acceptance. The Manhunter reached out one hand and then the room was gone. Images flashed before his eyes, snapshots of his life displayed on fast forward so that Jason hardly had the time to recognize one before it was replaced with another. The focus slowed at some memories, glossed over others completely, but on two they stopped. Jason watched himself crawl across the floor of a rundown warehouse and watched himself leave a trail of blood behind. He watched himself struggle with a door that would not open and he watched himself close his eyes as the realization that no one was coming to save him this time sunk in. Then the memory was consumed in fire and pain and darkness, only to be replaced with light and more pain and madness before the memory sped back into the recesses of his mind where it belonged.

More images flashed past his mind's eye, more things he didn't particularly want to examine too closely before the memories stopped again. He watched himself leaning over the side of a tall building, down into an alleyway that was remarkably familiar, and he watched as something over bright raced from the darkness and collided with his body. He watched as he fell and woke up in the same alleyway that started this whole mess.

It felt like coming up for air after holding his breath for far too long. The room was back, but it was out of focus. His head was spinning, his body was shaking and there was a pain in his chest that ached with each gasp he took. Someone was supporting him, guiding him back to sit on the mattress, but he didn't know why and didn't know who, because all Jason could do was stare up at the Manhunter.

"So—so much for—for not hurting," he stuttered, trying and mostly failing to slow his painfully beating heart.

"Are you okay? What happened, what did you do? Hay, kid, do you need to lie down or something?" It was the fast one, and now Jason could remember his name because he'd just seen himself be introduced once more. This was the Flash. A stupid name, but better then what Jason had called him in his head.

The Manhunter shrugged. "I have never examined the mind of a human that has experienced death before. I did not know it might be painful for him."

"Death?" Bruce demanded sharply. Jason chose not to look at him, not yet.

There was more talking, but he tuned it out. His body felt like someone had just set everything on overdrive and Jason kind of wished he could just go back to the mansion and have Alfred baby him as well. Maybe eat a couple dozen cookie to make up for lost time.

"Seriously, are you alright? You look like you might be sick," Flash said softly. He wasn't holding Jason up any more, but he did have a hand on his back, ostensibly for comfort but mostly to grab Jason should he collapse.

He shook his head. This guy would never last in Gotham. He was too nice.

"His story is factual. He was the second Robin to work with you, and the date he gave was correct. He is, unfortunately, not in his own reality, and therefore incorrect in his assumption of places, people and sequence of events," the Manhunter said smoothly.

Jason stared at him. "Come again?"

Bruce nodded. He looked like this was completely what he'd expected to hear, like talk of other realities was mostly normal for him. Maybe it was, because this was not Jason's Bruce. This was someone younger, healthier, less jaded. This was a stranger with the same face and Jason felt like he'd lost something fundamental. Who was Jason supposed to be, if the only continuous thing in his life was gone? Who was he now, if he didn't even have Bruce and his consistency to fall back on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who had read this so far and commented/ left kudos. I hope you like this chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

They sent him home with Bruce in the end, because he was Bruce's problem, and really what else could they do? No one but the Flash seemed willing to give Jason the benefit of the doubt and not assume he had some sort of diabolical plot in the works. A few hours ago that would have been fine, might even have been what he was secretly hoping for when this whole thing started, but not now. Now he kind of wanted to be sick every time he looked at Bruce. The man wasn't his Bruce, so he might as well not be there at all.

 

Everything inside the batmobile looked the way he remembered. All the buttons and knobs were in the right place. The thing even smelt like he remembered it smelling and that only made things worse. He leaned his head against the glass of his window and watched the city that wasn't his flash past. It was still dark and broken, but there was something cleaner, something happier about the people in this Gotham. It was insulting.

 

He was content to drive in silence, but Bruce apparently was not. Twenty minutes away from the manor and he broke the silence.

 

"Your name is Jason Todd." It wasn't really a question, more like a search for confirmation. Jason nodded listlessly and didn't move his head from the window.

 

"How did you come to work with the other me?" Bruce didn't even stumble with the question. He was acting like people from alternate realities popped up all the time. Jason was nothing special.

 

"I tried to steal the tires off of this car. You got back before I could finish," he muttered.

 

Bruce glanced at him then, but Jason refused to return the gesture. "You tried to get the tires off of this car?”

 

“Got three off before you showed back up again."

 

Jason nodded again. If they were going to be asking questions he might as well throw in some of his own. For peace of mind if nothing else.

 

"That kid isn't a relative of Grayson’s, is he? He is Grayson."

 

Bruce hesitated for a long moment before nodding.

 

"He's what? Twelve?"

 

"Thirteen."

 

"That's awfully young."

 

Bruce nodded, but gave no other indication that he cared about what the only other occupant of the car had to say. Jason was content to let the conversation end at that. They rode the rest of the incredibly short trip in silence. He watched the scenery fall away as Bruce drove them into the tunnel connecting to the bat cave. It looked different then Jason remembered but he wasn't sure if that was a result of this reality or this specific time.

 

Inside the cave was cold and drafty like it should be, so he counted that as a small victory. The ghosts of his old life were all over this place. He tried not to think about how he used to hide behind the large computer to pop out and scare Alfred. He tried not to remember how excited he was the first time he slipped on the Robin costume and got into the batmobile. Especial because it now felt like pulling a tooth and Jason sorely missed his mask. This was the longest so much of his face had been exposed in a very long time.

 

Superman was waiting for them just off the tarmac. He had his arms crossed over his broad chest still, but the expression on his face was much more open and friendly now than it had been back in the cabin. He made his way to Bruce as he and Jason stepped away from the car.

 

"You never contacted me," he said in place of a greeting.

 

Bruce nodded in a way that could only be interpreted as apologetic. Jason stared at him, mouth open in something close to disgust. Bruce never apologized to anyone, except maybe Alfred. To see him do so now, so easily with this man, made something hot and angry churn in Jason's gut. What right did this Bruce have to be so different from his own?

 

"I decided it would be less problematic if I just explained in person." He pulled the cowl off as he spoke and ran a gloved hand over his very short black hair.

 

Superman raised an eyebrow but did not argue. Instead he turned to Jason and smiled. It startled Jason for a moment, because a man that large and imposing should not be that easily placated. Superman uncrossed his arms and gestured upwards.

 

"He's fine, by the way. Had a mild concussion, but Alfred fixed him up good as new."

 

Jason gave a nod of understanding. That had to be why Superman didn't seem to want to break his face in anymore. He added the man to his growing list of people who seemed ready and willing to come to Grayson's rescue. He wondered fleetingly how different his own life would have been had he had someone like Superman or Flash in it.

 

"Is Dick sleeping now?"

 

Superman shot Bruce an amused grin and shook his head. "He promised he'd stay in bed but he wanted to wait until you and your new friend got here before going to sleep."

 

Bruce made a noncommittal sound deep in his throat and moved with purpose to the empty glass case to the left of the computer. He opened the door and hung his mask on the spoke high up along the back of the case. Once it was in place he turned back to Superman and Jason.

 

He gestured from one to the other and said, "Superman, this is Jason Todd. He'll be staying with us until we can figure out a way to send him back to his own reality."

 

Superman raised an eyebrow. "Cross-dimensional mishap?"

 

Jason had no idea what that meant, but Bruce nodded as if he did and continued, "He worked with me as Robin in the other reality."

 

Superman raised both eyebrows and turned to scrutinize Jason. The look wasn't hostile or even particularly unpleasant, but Jason felt the corners of his lips turn down into a deep frown.

 

"Is there no Dick in your reality?"

 

"He hit a rebellious phase. Is calling himself Nightwing now and patrols a different city."

 

"Nightwing?"

 

"Nightwing."

 

Superman nodded slowly, still looking vaguely confused. "So you're Robin now?"

 

Jason gave a sharp bark of laughter that was completely devoid of any mirth. No one was Robin now, not after the bang he went out on. Something of the bitterness he felt must have shown on his face, because Superman shot Bruce an uncomfortable look.

 

"No, no," Jason said, laugh tapering off. He gave a lopsided, nasty smile that used to annoy Bruce so much when he was a kid. "No. That title is currently available, but I don't think my Bruce'll be filling it any time soon."

 

"Why?" Bruce asked sharply. It was the interrogation tone, the one he used for criminals. Jason wondered what Superman would do if he punched this fake Bruce in the face and just left.

 

"Well, let me ask you something. Is there a Joker in this world? Crowbars? Explosives?"

 

Bruce didn't respond, but the look on his face darkened considerably. His eyes narrowed and his jaw turned tight again. Jason laughed.

 

"I'll take that as a yes. You should keep your little Grayson far as fuck away from that guy, because he definitely enjoyed beating the shit out of me. I figure he'd feel the same about the kid. And keep him away from things that go boom, because getting blown up hurts like hell just long enough to make you wish you were dead and then guess what? You are!"

 

Somewhere along the way he'd begin to shout. His voice echoed off the stone walls, warped and twisted.

 

"Try to keep him from getting killed, because you sure as fuck failed with me. But you always liked Dickey boy best, so that shouldn't be too hard for you," he snarled, hands gesturing wildly at noting. His eyes burnt and his body was shook and he didn't know why.

 

Superman looked vaguely horrified. He took a half step forward and reached out to Jason like he was going to try and hug him, and that wasn't going to fly. Jason bared his teeth at him and took a half step backwards.

 

"You died?" Bruce didn't look horrified, he looked hard. "The experience with death that Martian Manhunter was referring to was your own?"

 

Jason narrowed his eyes. That didn't deserve a response.

 

"But-but how? You're obviously not dead now, so how—" Superman floundered, looking back and forth from Jason to Bruce like he thought the answer could be found on their faces.

 

"Go ask your friend Ras Al Ghul. He'd know," Jason hissed at Bruce.

 

Some of the color drained from Bruce's face at that name. A spark of vicious satisfaction ran through Jason at the sight.

 

"Who did it?" Bruce asked softly, voice full of steel. His hands were clenched into tight fists that shook ever so slightly.

 

"Joker." Jason's voice was flat, but it did nothing to disguise his hatred.

 

"What did I—" Bruce began, but Jason cut him off. He knew what Bruce was going to ask and he didn't want to hear it.

 

"NOTHING! YOU DID NOTHING!" he snarled.

 

He couldn't stay here anymore, couldn't be so close to Bruce. There was a roaring in his ears and a shaking in his body and Jason hurt. Everything hurt. And the expression of pity on Superman's face was making him physically ill.

 

He turned on his heels and marched towards the elevator leading up to the house above the cave. He needed to see Alfred or the kid, someone he'd feel less like hitting just because they breathed.

 

Jason let his feet lead him wherever they felt like going. The pressure of the day, maybe even of the last five years, was finally getting to him. All he really wanted was to be back in his dank, dirty apartment in the worst part of his Gotham to allow the car alarms and angry shouting to lull him to sleep. He didn't want to be in this clean house with its sweet smelling air.

 

Footsteps echoed against the marble floor and he looked up. An older man made his way down the hall, silver tea tray in hand. There was a pot and three cups set on the tray, along with what looked like sugar and cream. Jason froze, but Alfred did not. Instead he smiled warmly, like he used to do when Jason was younger and looking for a sympathetic ear.

 

"Ah, you must be the young man Master Richard has been telling me so much about," he said easily. Everything about Alfred was comforting and easy, like a long lost security blanket Jason hadn't realized he'd needed until it was gone. He wanted to sit down and cry at the old butler's feet, just because he knew Alfred would somehow make everything better in the end.

 

He ignored the impulse in favor of shifting awkwardly form foot to foot. "Yeah. That would be me. How's Dick doing?"

 

Alfred raised a thin brow. "Rather well, all things considered." He halted his walk before Jason and looked significantly at the small mask still on his face. "Perhaps it's different in your world, but generally Master Bruce dose not advise any part of your costume to leave the cave."

 

There was nothing remotely hostile or angry in Alfred's tone, but Jason still felt slightly ashamed. He reached up and worked his fingers along the edge of the mask until it could be safely pulled off without taking a layer of skin with it. For what felt like a very long time he stared down at the mask in his hands and felt exposed. Even after he'd run from Al Ghule all he'd wanted was to put the mask back on. He felt naked without it then, and more so now in front of this man.

 

"Perhaps a strong cup of tea would be beneficial. It seems to have been a busy day for you," Alfred suggested.

 

As soon as the words left his mouth all Jason could think about was how delicious the Early Gray steam smelt. He glanced away from the mask and smiled somewhat bashfully before nodding. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had tea brewed by a master.

 

Alfred slipped the tea tray onto a side table lining the wall. He poured one of the cups nearly full to the brim with deep, caramel liquid.

 

"Cream and sugar?"

 

"Please. Two lumps."

 

It was perfect. Like something remembered from a dream and suddenly made real. A lump formed in Jason's throat and it was suddenly hard to swallow, and wasn't that just typical? First time in years that he got to drink Alfred's tea and he was going to ruin it by crying.

 

Alfred regarded him in silence. Jason couldn't bring himself to speak, but he wished suddenly that he could tell Alfred how much he'd always cared for the man. Or how much he'd missed the sense of peace that followed the man like a warm blanket wherever he went.

 

"I find that when one feels like they have done wrong, intentionally or otherwise, it always helps to apologize. Master Dick is a very forgiving boy," he said kindly, only half understanding Jason's struggle.

 

He gave a weak smile and followed the direction of Alfred's head nod. He still remembered where Dick's room used to be, mostly because his own was right next to it. He stood outside the door for at least ten minutes, staring at the door and mapping the swirls in the grain of wood with his eyes. He and Dick had never been particularly close, and he couldn't figure out whether or not that made this moment harder.

 

"You can come in you know. I don't bite."

 

Jason's lips twitched upwards slightly. Brat.

 

Dick was sitting up in his bed. There was a bandage over his right temple and the beginnings of a black eye forming on his left eye. Despite all that the smile on the kid's face was as vibrant as any Jason had seen before. He gave a half smile back, loosening his death grip on the cup of tea, because Dick's exuberance was infectious. He didn't remember his Dick ever being this cheerful, at least not around him.

 

"How you doing, kid?" he asked.

 

Dick shrugged. There was a half full glass of tea on his bedside table, a sure sign that Alfred had been here very recently.

 

"I'm good. Think you got me out of school tomorrow, but the way, which is nice because I had a test. Did Bruce talk to you? Explain what's going on?" Dick spoke a mile a minute. His eyes never really settled on any one place as he babbled, flitting from Jason's face, to the tea cup, Jason again, to the floor and then back to Jason. It looked like he couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to make eye contact, like he was uncomfortable and the happy smile from a moment ago was a fraud.

 

"How many drugs do they have pumping through you?"

 

That brought the kid up short. He blinked at Jason a few times, then frowned a little bit. His shoulders hunched into the vicinity of his ears and he muttered, "Not that much. It's your fault anyway. Why do you care?"

 

He laughed. He couldn't help it. The kid was like a teeter-totter of emotions and it helped knowing that Jason wasn't the only one having a hard time dealing with this. As odd as it was to see Bruce being anything less than doom and gloom made manifest, it was equally as odd to see the man he's always aspired to emulate as a fidgeting child. He might have liked Dick more, if they'd been introduced while he still looked like a strong wind could carried him away.

 

"I'm not trying to pick a fight, I promise. You're just talking as fast as that Flash guy. I'm old, you have to slow down," he said with a lopsided smile.

 

Dick narrowed an eye in speculation before giving a light scoff. "You're not old. You're like, what, twenty?"

 

"Old enough to know better, young enough not to care."

 

"Not an age. Good try though." The kid was grinning again. It looked slightly lopsided with the swelling going on around his eye, probably hurt just the littlest bit. Jason glanced away. There were pictures all over the room, covering every spare inch on the dresser top and the walls. He recognized some of the people in them, like Bruce, and a big man with glasses that could only be Superman with that kind of build. There were a few with Alfred in them, looking stoic and serene despite the paint sized Dick Grayson hanging off him like a monkey. There were a few of a red haired boy that Jason recognized from Dick's team, one of which had a tall blond man with a goofy smile Jason was willing to bet cash was the Flash. How these people kept their identity a secret was a mystery.

 

The photos on the desk all clustered around a large frame. In that frame was an image of a pretty young women not much older than Jason himself and an equally young man with the same infectious grin as Dick. Both were in brightly colored bodysuit and both were beaming proudly at a small child held in the man' arms. Jason had a very good idea who they were. It was an effort to make himself look back at Dick.

 

The boy was looking glassy-eyed and sleepy, but calmer than a moment before. He smiled when he saw Jason's attention was back on him. It was less exuberant then the first smile, but more comfortable for it.

 

"Seriously, did Bruce explain things to you?" he asked.

 

Jason shrugged. There were mentions of multiple dimensions and multiple realities, but aside from that he was kind of at a loss over what was going on here. When he told him as much Dick simply nodded, like he'd expected Bruce to suck at explanations the same ways he sucked at most human interaction.

 

"You got zapped here somehow. It's happened a few times before. People in the League know how to fix it and send you home, they just have to run a few tests. It has something to do with math, I don't know. Anyway, they can get you home without a problem."

 

 

Jason forced himself to smile. It was obvious Dick was waiting for some reaction, some indication that he would be glad to know home was still within his grasp. Home, with its empty apartment, its nights full of killing the people Batman couldn't kill, running and hiding and fighting with the man who'd meant more to him than anyone else. Home, where he'd already died once and discovered that life would still go on without him.

 

Nothing like this warm, clean, welcoming house. Nothing like Alfred's tea cooling in his hands. Nothing like Dick smiling up at him like they were comrades in arms, like they had some secret together. Nothing like the flashes of genuine concern Bruce sent his way on the ride home.

 

He reached out and ruffled Dick's hair very lightly, conscious of the bandages on his head and bruise from their earlier skirmish. "Go to sleep, kid. I'm sure Bruce'll have a fit if I keep you awake after I played so rough with you earlier."

 

Dick pushed his hand away, watching Jason through his lashes. He gave a drowsy smile and waved his hands dismissively towards the door. "Sure, sure. G'night."

 

Jason snorted and stood from the bed. He waited until Dick started to get comfortable before turning to leave the room. He closed the door softly and clutched his cold tea close. There was a thought building, a realization bubbling to the surface, and he didn't want to acknowledge about it. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't mind if there wasn't a way home. Maybe he didn't have one.


	6. Chapter 6

The next few days were awkward, to say the least. Dick seemed perfectly willing to let bygones be bygones, and greeted Jason with a lopsided smile whenever they met. Alfred was the polite, calming presence from Jason's memories, always ready with a cup of hot tea or a still warm cookie. Honestly, it was getting to the point where Jason was beginning to suspect that Alfred purposefully walked around the manor with treats just on the off chance he might run into Jason.

They were what made this new world bearable. The problem was Bruce. Every morning for the last five days Jason found himself dragged from his room at the crack of dawn by the smell of delicious food wafting up to his bed from the kitchen a floor below. Today, like the days before, he made his way down to the dining room, fully prepared to eat his weight in Alfred's food, only to stop in his tracks in the doorway. Dick and Bruce sat at one end of the long dining table, speaking in low, easy tones. Dick waved cheerfully when he saw Jason, prompting Bruce to twist around in his chair.

His blue eyes caught on Jason's green ones and something indistinguishable passed through his gaze. It was an act of will grater then Jason thought possible to keep his face neutral. This wasn't his Bruce, there was no reason for the hate that churned in his gut at the sight of him. The thought of leaving occurred to Jason, but the smell of food better than any he'd eaten in five years overruled any hope of self-preservation.

Dick glanced purposefully at the chair beside him, and Jason took the hint. He wasn't going to be sitting near Bruce, that was for sure. He flopped into the seat beside Dick and promptly began to shovel as much food from the serving trays as possible onto his plate. He responded with one word answers to all of Dick's attempts to start a conversation, forced out a proper good morning for Alfred as he set a cup of coffee down in front of him, and strove to ignore the stranger at the end of the table.

"We should be able to begin work on getting you home today. You may be needed for calibrations, but certainly not today," Bruce began after his good morning was ignored in favor of a slurp of coffee.

Jason grunted and continued to stare at his food. He suddenly wasn't all that hungry, which he blamed on Bruce entirely.

"Can he come with me to the base?" Dick asked suddenly. He was leaning forward in his chair, his eyes wide and exited.

Despite himself Jason looked up from his plate. Bruce and Dick were having a stare down, but definitely one of the oddest versions Jason had seen. While Bruce pursed his lips together into a thin, tight line and stared hard at Dick to try and force him from the request. Dick, on the other hand, grinned wider and bounced in his seat. His sheer exuberance seemed to wear Bruce down because he looked away first.

Jason's mistake was not to look down at his food fast enough. Bruce caught his eye and while the stern look did nothing to make Jason feel uncomfortable it did everything to make his stomach twist angrily.

"Do you want to go with Dick? His team is training today," he said carefully. Jason didn't see why he needed the specification, but felt no need to voice his confusion.  
"It'll be awesome! You can spar with me without cheating and using gas bombs. I bet I'd totally wipe the floor with you," Dick declared, twisting around in his seat to fix that blinding grin on Jason.

It was obvious from the tilt of his head and the growing smirk on his face that Dick was baiting him, trying to rile Jason up enough to make him want to come. It was odd. He couldn't remember the last time someone teased him. He returned Dick's shit-eating grin with his most cocky smirk and landed forward.

"That's not going to happen, kid. You're welcome to try though," he laughed.

Bruce watched them both closely, but made no objection. It wasn't like he could say Jason shouldn't go because he would find out the location of the base because he'd already found it. There was no reason for him to say Jason could be a danger to the others, because he'd felt no threat having Jason prowling around in his house for a week. There was a feeling of triumph in Jason's gut that was totally satisfying.

"I can drip you both off—" began Bruce, sounding like he wanted to do anything else but that.

Jason snorted derisively. He couldn't stop himself from sneering at Bruce and demanding, "In what? The batmobile? With its two seats? Because that's practical when you have motorcycles that we could use."

Silence filled the room. Dick glanced back and for the between Jason and Bruce, Alfred hovering in the background with his pot of coffee. Brue watched Jason, his face calm and closed off, the exact opposite of Jason's which hid none of his frustration and anger.

"I think you should go by yourself today Dick. I'd like to speak with Jason." Bruce never took his eyes off Jason as he spoke, despite the fact that he definitely wasn't addressing him in any part of that comment. His grip on the shiny silver fork tightened as thoughts of hurling it at Bruce flashed through his head.

"But—" Dick began.

"Get ready to go," Bruce said firmly, sounding for the first time like some semblance of a Bruce Wayne that Jason recognized.

Dick frowned, and narrowed his eyes, but did not argue. His bottom lip was jutting out again, and Jason almost found it cute in a two-year old kind of way. He found it hard to picture Dick fighting crime when he pouted like that. He'd never done that, and he suspected that his Bruce would have been as unmoved by the expression as this one was.  
He waited until Dick was out of the room before speaking. "What makes you think I'm willing to go anywhere with you?"

"The fact that you're a guest in my home, I'm your only way back to your own world, and because I wasn't asking," Bruce responded without missing a beat. It was that same tone of parental command that he'd used with Dick when sending the kid out of the room. It was a tone he'd never quite managed to use with Jason at home.

He was up and out of his seat before realizing he's even moved. Jason slammed his hands down on the table top, knocking over his half full mug of coffee in the process. Bruce did not move. He didn't even blink. Instead he raised an eyebrow at the outburst and frowned.

"You have no right and no authority to make me do anything!" Jason snarled. There was more he wanted to say, much more, but Bruce cut him off before he could even start.

"You're my responsibility while in this world, and I take my responsibilities seriously. You obviously have issues with my counterpart in your reality, and I'm not willing to let whatever hostilities you have for him affect Dick here," said Bruce, voice dropping deep and hard and Bat-like.

"I'm not going to hurt Dick you raving, paranoid asshole! I actually like this Dick, and I'm not about to hurt the bunch of little kids he works with!"

Bruce stood from his chair in one calm, smooth motion. He looked disappointed, which was ridiculous. He should look angry, or furious, or something other than how he looked now. The turn of his lips made what little Jason had managed to eat want to come back up.

"I'm not worried about you hurting them, Jason. I'm worried about you," Bruce said softly.

Jason snapped his mouth shut so hard his teeth clinked together. His cheeks burned with anger and something else. There was a tingling in his limbs and that rushing was back in his ears. How dare Bruce say something like that? Who was he kidding? When push came to shove Bruce didn't care about anyone but himself, and no alternate reality was going to be enough to change something like that. To even suggest otherwise was a lie. A massive lie.

He kicked his chair over so that it crashed into the ground with an echoing clatter. He stomped past Bruce and the disappointed look on Alfred's face out into the hallway. Dick was standing just out of sight of anyone in the room. His eyes were wide and surprised and if Jason looked any longer he would find the disappointment there too.

"Jason!" Bruce shouted, sounds of movement following the exclamation.

Jason ducked his head and shut out the world as he fled to the closest exit.

That exit was the front door, which made a fast getaway somewhat more difficult then had he simply kept it together long enough to run down to the batcave and hotwire a bike. He tried slamming the door really hard, just to emphasis the point that he wanted nothing to do with anyone at the moment. The resulting clatter only just began to die down when the door was thrown open once more and a very angry Bruce stepped out of the house.

It was the first time since coming to this backward, crazy place that the look of pure anger on Bruce's face had been directed at Jason. Yeah, he'd been angry enough to maim Jason when Bruce first found him with Dick, but that didn't count. That was Batman ready to do some damage. Batman was always ready to do some damage. This time it was Bruce Fucking Wayne who had his panties in a bunch.

Jason grinned at him, the look all teeth, and clenched his fists. He wanted to be the one to swing first, he really did, but it would be so much more satisfying making Bruce drop any lingering hope of staying calm and have him hit first. Let him try to pull the Good Dad bit when he was driving his knuckles into his kid's face.

Bruce closed the door far more calmly then Jason had managed and moved down the front steps with poorly concealed tension in each and every one of his limbs. He looked tired, with dark circles clinging to his eyes that were far more noticeable now that he was out here in the sunlight of early morning. Served him right, if he'd let Jason deal with the problems in Gotham the way they should be dealt with then maybe he'd have the time to sleep.

He took a deep breath through his nose, stopping well within striking distance if Jason chose to make a move. It was a stupid thing to do because with the way he was feeling right now Jason intended to make one or both of them limp way from this confrontation.

"This has gone on long enough, Jason. I've given you as much space as possible, but now we are having this discussion," Bruce half snarled. The first vestige of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth were forming in his anger.

Jason snorted in contempt. "Discussion? How was me hating you ever a discussion?"

Bruce very pointedly did not cross his arms. He left them hanging at his sides, still tense but not even fisted. He sighed again, like he seemed to do every time he and Jason spoke, and that almost broke Jason's self-imposed rule not to hit first. Bruce had no right to sound so tired, not after what he'd let Jason go through.

"You don't hate me because you don't know me. You know a man who looks like me, maybe speaks like I speak, but is obviously as different from me as I am from you," he said, less angry now and more determined to get his point across.

His point was bullshit. Jason's hands shook at his side. He could get a good hit in, a hard hit in, before Bruce could stop him, experience had shown as much. It had also shown that he wouldn't get much more than that accomplished if he started the fight, because Bruce was a cheating bastard and liked to carry weapons on his person at all times.

"I know you better than you think," he hissed out through teeth clenched so tightly his jaw hurt. "I know that you'd rather let the man that killed one of your own walk away then dirty your hands, I know that you'll never take the time to see things from anyone else's point of view, I know that loyalty only lasts as long as we're all loyal to you!"

Bruce didn't interrupt. He waited in silence to be sure that Jason had no more to say in that moment before responding. As Jason spoke Bruce's look of anger grew, his whole face darkened like a shadow had fallen over only the spot where he stood. There was real anger in him now, and Jason couldn't understand why he was still holding back. The Bruce he knew would have done something by now.

Finally, when it was clear Jason had said his piece for the moment, Bruce spoke. "The Joker killed you, and I didn't even see that he was locked away for it?"

"Oh, you put him in jail. You made sure he was in a nice padded cell with three square meals a day, a warm bed to sleep in at night, and no fear of someone coming to gut him when he least expected it." There was not enough loathing in the world to convey just how inadequate a response to his hurt that was.

"I put him away, and you wanted him dead. I wouldn't let that happen, wouldn't let you do that, would I?" Bruce asked softly.

Was he really that stupid? Did Bruce really not get the point of his whole problem? He was supposed to be the greatest detective in the world, and he couldn't even work out something that simple?

"I wanted you to do it!" he shouted, voice breaking in fury. His fist flew, aimed towards Bruce's stupid, perfect jaw with every intention of breaking it into as many pieces as he could.

Bruce ducked under the arm, twisting to the side so that he slipped behind Jason. His hand moved to the center of Jason's back, just between his shoulder blades. No matter how quickly Jason turned, no matter how he twisted and kicked, he could not reach Bruce from that position. He'd fought with the man hundreds of times and never had Bruce used such useless, non-combative moves to toy with him.

"Why? Why did you want me to be the one to kill him? Why not revenge yourself against him?" Bruce shouted from behind him, his voice echoing unpleasantly in Jason's left ear.

"It's not about revenge!" Jason snarled. He dropped to his hands, swept his feat backwards, but met no resistance. Without pausing he pitched himself forward in a roll that carried him back to his feet. Bruce stood where Jason had left him, still tense and ready for a fight, but not in any rush to be the one to attack again.

"Then what was it about?" It was that tone again, the one that Bruce from his reality never used, the one that was almost decent enough to be from a real, feeling human being.

And Jason, for the second time in his life, found himself spilling his guys to Bruce Wayne like some lost little kid. "Because it's what I would have done for you, if they had hurt you like they did me. Because I thought you cared," he croaked, only mildly surprised to find his throat tight.

"And then I shunned you, when you tried to make me kill Joker." It wasn't a question. Jason nodded anyway.

He didn't know how it happened. One moment Bruce was on the other side of the lawn, at least three feet away from him, the next he was in Jason's personal space like he'd been there all morning. Bruce's arms moved and Jason tensed, knowing there was no time to get out of the way, no time to really block an attack. But no attack came. Instead he found himself crushed against Bruce's chest in an embrace so hard it was almost painful. For a moment if felt like his brain had short circuited, because that was the only explanation for this. Bruce didn't do physical contact, especially not comforting physical contact, so Jason had to be going crazy.

"I'm sorry. I guess Clark isn't the only one in need of parenting advice. I'm sorry you were ever hurt like that." The words were said in Bruce's voice, but they couldn't be Bruce's words. They were too sincere, too full of self-directed anger and something that may have been love but couldn't be because this was Bruce speaking.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Jason's voice was small and broken and beaten down so thoroughly it would never find its way back up. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't bounce back each time hope was dangled in front of him like a carrot and then taken away again. It wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair, but this was even worse than that.

Bruce held him closer, seemed to try to envelop him so that the rest of the world would leave Jason alone, but the problem wasn't the rest of the world. The problem was the hint of the person Jason's Bruce should have been, could have been.

"It's not wrong to want revenge. It's not wrong to feel like you're owed it. No one gets past that on their own, and no version of me should have expected you to. It's not your fault," Bruce said, sounding firm and confident and like what Jason had always wanted to hear.

Jason pushed away, staring at the grass beneath his feet rather than the blue eyes looking down at him. "I killed people. Mobsters and drug dealers and gangbangers. Were they not my fault either?"

For a moment Bruce said nothing, and something inside Jason died, but he smirked stupidly because that was the silence he expected to hear. That was the reaction Bruce was supposed to have.

"Every decision we make has consequences. You chose to take your pain and anger out on others, and the other Bruce chose not to give his son the help he needed," Bruce said softly, his hands still gently squeezing Jason's shoulders.

"I didn't want your help by then."

He glanced up, and saw the look of utter seriousness on Bruce's face that seemed so out of place without anger behind it. "No child ever wants their parent's help until they have to have it. If your Bruce knew Dick then he should have realized that."

"I'm not a nice person. I fight with you all the time in my world. I think you want to lock me away as well." He didn't know why, but it was important somehow to get this all out. He had to be sure Bruce understood the whole picture. He had to be sure that Bruce realized just how screwed up Jason was before he tried to push the happy bunnies and sun shine thing.

"I never said I thought you were an angel, or totally without blame," Bruce replied practically.

Something about that admission loosened the knot in Jason's chest. It felt like he could breathe again for the first time in a really, really long time. He wanted his mask back, because his eyes were starting to sting and his damn throat was tightening up around a lump again, and wasn't this just the perfect time to develop allergies?

He gave a thick sounding cough and muttered indistinct things about breakfast and needing more. Bruce nodded and led him back into the house without a word.


	7. Chapter 7

In the end Bruce let him go with Dick. Jason couldn't decide whether or not to view that as a victory. He liked this version of Dick, actually found himself looking forward to seeing the kid, but an equally griping part of himself wanted to stay at the mansion with Bruce. That was complicated a bit by the fact that he felt like he was going to spontaneously combust under the strain of pure humiliation if he so much as looked at Bruce after what happened outside, but what could he do?

The rest of breakfast had been awkward and uncomfortable, but not like before the fight-that-wasn't occurred outside. He kind of liked the fact that Bruce apologized. It was the wrong Bruce and way past the point, but it still felt nice to know not everyone thought Jason was a crazy psychopath.

They took the bikes down in the cave instead of using whatever the hell a Zata tube was. Jason was suspicious of anything with a name that odd. Dick offered to share his bike with Jason, sporting a cocky, shit eating grin, as he promised he'd 'drive safe'. The teasing earned him a laugh, and Jason watched as Dick preened ever so slightly under the attention. Some things never really changed he guessed; Dick was an attention hog no matter what reality he inhabited.

The ride to Happy Harbor was surprisingly short and surprisingly enjoyable. Dick was unable to stay silent for more than a few seconds at a time, so there was a constant backdrop of sound coming through the microphone in his helmet for Jason to focus on rather than his own thoughts. He would have to sit and think about what happened that morning, but it was going to require more time and effort then he was willing to give just yet. They parked the motorcycles in a garage cleverly disguised as a rock formation and then Dick held his hand out. A mask identical to the one Dick wore on their first meeting, save for the slightly larger size, sat in his palm.

"Us Robins have to go in style. Figured you'd like this more than these," he added, pointing to the dark glasses hiding most of his face from view.

Something warm bubbled in Jason's chest as he took the mask. He secured it to his face with long practiced ease. It felt better than the one Bruce had taken from him that first day he arrived here, better than the Red Hood mask ever managed to feel. It was like slipping into a warm bed after being away for a long, long time.

"It fits, right?" Dick asked somewhat hesitantly. He was looking up at Jason, tensed for some odd reason.

"Yeah. Fits like a glove. Thanks kid." He was on the verge of asking what the problem was, why Dick looked like he half expected to be screamed at, when the tension drained from small shoulders. Dick grinned that blindingly bright grin of his again and beckoned Jason to fall into step. He pressed the appropriate buttons and then ushered them both into the base.

There was a moment of disorientation before the light filling Jason's eyes dimmed enough to reveal a large room. It was obviously modeled after the Bat Cave, with the large computers covering one wall and the open space to accommodate a vehicle despite their being none. The difference was the group of teenagers standing in the middle of the room, all looking at the new arrivals with varying degrees of suspicion.

A squeal split the air and then something red and bright was streaking towards Dick faster than Jason could stop. Dick gave a small exhale as the air was knocked out of him by the collision. A boy now had his arms wrapped around Dick, lifting him up and spinning him back and forth as he babbled so quickly Jason had no hope of following what he was actually saying.

"Flash's kid?" he asked Dick's moving head.

"Yup, more or less," was the reply.

A pair of very green eyes found their way to Jason’s face and narrowed. Flash Jr. took a step backwards that carried him nearly all the way across the room, Dick still clutched in his arms like an oversized Teddy Bear.

"What's he doing here, Rob?" he demanded, not taking his eyes off of Jason.

"I admit to being curios about that as well," the kid with the gills added. He moved forward to stand beside the redhead and Dick.

Jason raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected to get the third degree from a bunch of kids, mostly because it hadn't occurred to him that they would know there was any reason to question his presence. In retrospect, that was a stupid assumption to have made. In all likelihood their mentors had been in that cabin with Bruce's Justice League friends. It only made sense that they would know Jason attacked one of their own.

Dick wiggled himself free from Flash Jr.'s grip and took a small step back, so that he could look at all of his friends in the same moment. The grin was back on Dick's face, but it looked slightly less exuberant then it had before they came into the base. He gestured over his shoulder to where Jason stood with his arms crossed over his chest and then back at his friends a few times before actually speaking.

"He's another Robin, from a different reality. He wasn't trying to hurt me the other day, and Batman is cool with him, so you guys have nothing to be upset over," he said firmly, hand still flapping like he thought that was going to strengthen his argument.

The big kid, the one that resembled Superman to such an extent they could only be related, narrowed his very bright blue eyes at Dick. Jason felt himself tense reflexively. He didn't think the boy would try to hurt Dick, not if Batman was going to let the kid near his Robin, but it was always good to be cautious.

"He hurt you. I don't like people who hurt me friends," the boy said. There was a note of petulant possessiveness to his declaration that nearly made Jason laugh out loud. At least the kid was honest.

Dick was silent for a moment, blinking in surprise at the response. As always, his silence only lasted for a brief moment. He crossed his arms in an unconscious mirroring of Jason's stance and cocked his head to the side.

"That's kind of how we make friends around here. Don't sweat it, Supey."

There was a story behind that remark that Jason was missing, but even still he could tell that something in that response was less kind then it could have been. Dick Grayson was almost always kind to people, especially his friends, it was a part of his personality that Jason couldn't see changing just because the reality was slightly different. As much as Jason liked having people stand up for him he didn't need Dick to do it if it was going to alienate him from his teammates.

He sighed loudly and uncrossed his arms. Instantly every eye was on him, and Jason had a hard time not smirking. Kids were so easy to read it was ridiculous. He watched Super Kid tense like a spring the closer Jason moved towards Dick. The green skinned girl was wringing her hands together, glancing between him and Super Kid like she thought she might have to restrain the big guy.

"I thought I was still in my reality, where it would be a death wish to walk around in broad daylight in a Robin uniform. I thought I was helping, obviously I was not," he said seriously, being sure to make eye contact with Flash Jr., Super Kid, Fish Boy and the two as of yet silent girls.

Fish Boy looked grave and serious as he considered the pseudo apology. After a long moment he nodded. He took himself way too seriously, and Jason would keep that in mind when they interacted next. Flash Jr. still looked petulant, but Super Kid seemed to unwind ever so slightly. Jason couldn't tell if that was because of the apology itself, or because he'd been sure to acknowledge the boy while speaking.

One of the girls, the blond one, threw back her head and laughed. She stepped past the others, patting Super Kid on one massive arm as she passed him. She came to stand beside Dick, directly in front of Jason, and grinned up at him. The expression was predatory, possibly meant to be alluring, and Jason found himself smirking in return. She was too young by a good four years, but if a little flirting would get her off his back and save Dick the trouble of defending him to each of his team mates Jason would flirt all she wanted.

"Robin's fine, and if he's forgiven you then we can too," she said with perfect confidence. "Did you come here to train with us today?"

"Maybe. Think you could take me?" he asked, lowering his voice to just the right pitch.

Her eyes flitted over Jason’s body appraisingly before locking with his gaze again. "Definitely."

"They perhaps you should all relocate to the training room and change into the proper attire." The red robot Jason remembered seeing while staking out the base stood in the doorway. It was impossible to tell if he was annoyed at having to come remind the kids where they were supposed to be, but they all responded as if they had been chastised. Dick gave an apologetic mumbled and hurried from the room, Flash Jr. falling into step beside him. The blond girl lingered one moment more, tossed a smirk Jason's way, and then left as well.

The robot waited until they were all out of the room before nodding his head towards Jason. "I am Red Tornado. The Batman has informed me of your situation, and has instructed me to view you as a temporary member of the team. Are you planning on training as well?"

The smirk morphed into an actual smile. Red Tornado might not be big on the pleasantries but he got to the point, and Jason was beginning to really appreciate that in a person.

"Haven't decided yet. Kind of just wanted to see what Robin's team was like," he admitted with a shrug.

"Are we to refer to you as Robin as well?" Red Tornado asked, turning to move down the hallway after the kids. Jason followed beside him.

He frowned slightly. He definitely wasn't Robin and didn't want anyone here calling him by that name when Dick was still using it. Just the thought of being any form of a Robin again was enough to make his skin crawl. Red Hood wasn't much better when he thought about it. That name wasn't originally his either, just something to help make an impression as he strove to take a chunk out of Gotham's crime.

"There's only one Robin, and he's not me. Call me Jay."  
________________________________________  
Dick circled the blond women in a low crouch, waiting for an opening. The women, Black Canary according to Red Tornado, allowed him to make one more circle before striking. Her foot shot out, swinging for Dick's head with enough force behind it to cause some damage should it actually connect. A laugh was all the move earned as Dick leapt up over the leg and flipped backwards to land in another smooth crouch.

Black Canary smiled and attacked again. This time it was faster, leaving Dick no time to do anything other than dart out of the way of the blow. He ducked a slightly wide punch, dropping his shoulder to drive it into the women's gut. He didn't see the satisfied smirk that curved Black Canary's lips. With a fluid motion that rivaled even Bruce's skill she twisted, caught Dick's waist and spun. He gave a startled yelp as she threw him clear out of the circle to land mostly smoothly at Jason's feet.

He laughed at the look of disgruntled annoyance twisting Dick's lips. It was muted slightly by the mask and the cape covering half of the kid's face.

"You lasted longer than any of the others," Jason reminded him.

Dick grunted and straightened up.

It was true. Out of all the members of his little group, Dick had fared the best during their training. The green girl, M'gann, was the first to face off against Black Canary. Restrictions were added to their fight, forcing M'gann to refrain from using her telekinetic abilities. Agility and her naturally enhanced strength were all she was allowed to work with against Canary. The fight didn't last long, mostly because the girl cringed every time she tried to hit her instructor. Jason had the impression that she thought she might actually hurt the women, which was laughable because she would have to be able to actually touch Canary first.

The boy with the gills, Kaldur, fared much better. He didn't seem to think that he was going to hurt his teacher, and he obviously had some skill in hand to hand combat. The way he fought made it seem like he was used to wielding weapons during a battle, and the need to compensate for their loss was more than enough to give Canary the opening she required to send him flying out of the ring.

Flash's kid, who made the point of correcting Jason on his name in the most annoying way possibly, was without a doubt the worst of the three fighters. What he lacked in actual hand to hand combat he made up for in speed however. Black Canary actually had to work in order to get her hands on him. He was cocky though, which was enough to give Canary her win. He lasted longer than both Kaldur and M'gann, but not by much.

The blond needed to work on her close range fighting most of all. She was even worse than Kaldur, obviously missing a weapon in her battle. Jason was willing to bet she was a long range fighter more than anything else. She could take a hit better then any of the others except for Dick and Superman's kid, and they were hardly fair people to be comparing others to. She lasted about as long as Kaldur, but walked away with the beginnings of far more bruises.

Superboy did well enough against his teacher, but even Jason could tell that was more from brute strength then actual skill. He was simply solid enough to make fighting him a work out. Jason considered asking why Superman wasn't the one training Superboy, who quite clearly had different limitations then the others, but decided that might be a question for another day.

"Hit the showers everyone. You all did well, I'm seeing real improvement," Black Canary said with a flip of her long blond hair.

Dick grumbled something under his breath that Jason didn't manage to catch just before a blur streaked past them. Kid Flash skidded to a halt a step away from the door to flash a mischievous grin back at the others.

"I say we order pizza afterwards. Last one out of the showers pays for it, first one gets to order," he said before zipping off down the hall and out of sight.

Dick scoffed, but he was smiling now. "You're always the first one out, but I'm not paying for your thirdly pizzas!" he called, hot on his friend's heals.

Artemis slug an arm over M'gann's shoulder and they walked from the room together, heads bowed in deep conversation. From the way M'gann's turned in his direction more than once on their way out Jason was willing to bet he knew the subject of their conversation. Kaldur gave him a polite nod before he and Superboy left the room.

"You seem to be doing much better than I would have thought," said Black Canary. Her voice was smooth and thick like honey, an octave deeper now that she was talking to Jason and not the kids.

He hummed in response, unwilling to add anything to her comment. Canary smiled, her eyes half hooded. It might have been a seductive expression had Jason not know enough women who'd looked at him that way before trying to kill him. This was a test, he realized with a start. Bruce trusted him enough to be around Dick without supervision, but all the kid's teammates had mentors who were bound to be paranoid about strangers as well. They couldn't possibly be anywhere near as paranoid as Bruce himself, but that didn't mean they weren't still watching him.

"You've been here a little over two weeks now, and I can't imagine you've been practicing much with Robin or Batman. How about we go a round?" The smile hadn't changed, but Canary's eyes were sharp and assessing.

Jason rolled his shoulders backwards, flashing a smile with more teeth then was strictly necessary.

"You're on. Same rules as the kids, or do we take the gloves off?"

A delicate brow arced as Canary replied, "I was under the impression you were a normal human."

"I am."

The first true smile appeared on Black Canary's face. She crouched low, Jason following her example. "No powers; just a good, clean hand to hand match. Agreed?"  
Jason nodded. "Agreed."

She attacked. Unlike with the kids, Black Canary didn't give him the chance to feel her out and pick his own moment of engagement. Instead she flung herself forward and dropped onto her hands. A heeled boot came rocketing up towards his face, forcing Jason to slip to the left and away from her body.

He grabbed the offending foot by the ankle and toes and twisted hard to the side, pulling Canary off balance. The intent was to slam her into the mat and end the match with a tight pin, but Black Canary was almost as flexible as Dick. She rolled with the blow, absorbing most of the impact along her back. She twisted her captured foot so that it drew Jason in closer to her.

Her fist missed his face by centimeters. A laugh ripped itself away from Jason before he could help himself. This was fun, there was an exhilaration that came with knowing that his opponent was just as good as he was. It wouldn't be skill that determined the victory in this fight so much as it would be creativity.

Jason allowed Black Canary to pull him down, past her outstretched arm and rolled over her body. Along the way he abandoned her foot and instead grabbed the arm she had meant to punch him with.

His landing was less than graceful, but effective because now he had the option of using any number of pins to keep Canary down. He jammed her arm back into her shoulder joint and wrapped his hands around her forearm to press hard on a tending running from her wrist. The hold would lock her arm and the tendon would insure it hurt too much to struggle. It was one of the first take-downs that Bruce ever taught him.

"I'd say that's game," Jason laughed breathlessly.

Canary peered at him over her locked shoulder. "Would you?"

Something slammed into Jason's chest so hard every last ounce of air left his lungs in a loud pop. Canary sat on him, her knee pressed just under his ribs. One arm pressed firmly against his windpipe, not chocking him but clearly discouraging any further movement. The other arm, the one he still held, was twisted under her body and against his chest so that it looked like she was doing a warped contortionist's trick.

"I think this is game," she said.

In response Jason tightened his hold on her arm until her eyebrows twitched in discomfort and her jaw tightened.

"Looks like a draw to me," he rasped.

"Really?" Black Canary almost managed to sound disinterested.

"Yeah. You strangle me, but only if I don't manage to break your arm fast enough."

For half a second he though she was going to push it. He'd known enough people who felt they had something to prove and that normally took precedence over common sense. Instead she let out an amused puff of air and nodded as she moved her arm off his neck. Jason released her arm as well and waited until Canary was no longer perched on his sternum to sit up.

"I think that's the fastest I've ever fought to a standstill," he admitted, pointedly not rubbing the spot on his chest that was sure to bruise.

Canary shrugged. "Don't feel too bad. I have an insight into your style that you don't have into mine.

"Yeah? And what would that be?"

Canary cocked her head to the side. She seemed genuinely amused by something, but he wasn't sure what that something could be.

"I've fought with and against Batman before, and I've been training Robin for some time now. There was no way your style would deviate much from theirs."

"You talk to Batman often?" It was meant to sound casual, but it didn't even manage it in his own ears.

"Yes, but not lately. He's been trying to figure out how to get you home."

It felt like every part of Jason had stopped short. It was actually hard to breath for a moment. This was ridiculous, there was no logical reason for this sort of a reaction. He knew Bruce was trying to help, knew his League of friends would be working on it too. It shouldn't come as a surprise to find out about because it had never been a secret.

Canary raised an eyebrow at the silence her comment prompted. "Do you not want him to get you home?"

Jason forced himself to laugh. "That's a random question. Why wouldn't I want to get home?"

He'd always considered himself fairly skilled at deflection but Canary looked more intrigued by the comment rather than less. She worked with moody teenagers on a regular base he reminded himself. She was probably used to second guessing everything they said. It didn't mean anything.

"I wonder," she muttered softly.

And then the sound of loud, exited voices killed the conversation. Jason almost found himself pleased to see Kid Flash racing just ahead of Dick, both grinning widely. While Kid Flash was now out of costume Dick still had his mask on. The rest of the team filed in after them, less enthusiastically but still chattering together.

"Pizza!" Dick declared. "And KF is footing the bill this time."

From the pleased smile on his face Jason was betting Dick won that little foot race to the showers. He had no idea how that was even possible, but some things were better left unsolved.

Kid Flash waved Dick's comment away as regally as possible. "Yeah, yeah. Just as long as no one orders anchovies. I'm not paying for that."

The remainder of the afternoon was spent socializing. There was really no other word for it. Jason sat back and observed as Dick interacted with his friends, making comments when he needed to but otherwise staying out of the conversation. This Dick was less tactile then the Dick from Jason's memories, but no less loved for it. Not for the first time Jason found himself wondering. How would he have turned out with friends like these six around when he was a kid? What had changed in this world to make such friendships possible for Dick?

How much would he screw up by staying?

"Pretty awesome, huh?" Dick asked, hours later as they pulled the bikes back into the bat cave.

Jason nodded. The look of happiness on Dick's face stayed with him long after the day had ended


	8. Chapter 8

Jason sat in the darkened cave, a cooling cup of coffee held between his hands. The sun was up, had been for almost an hour now, but it did not penetrate this deep into the system of caverns and foundation mortar. Jason had been waiting for hours and still there was no sign of Bruce. It might not have bothered him so much if Bruce hadn't gone out on patrol alone, but he had. Dick was upstairs not sleeping, and doing a good job of pretending to rest while remaining very much awake. Alfred was ghosting around the mansion doing whatever Alfred did when he waited from his extended family to return safe and sound. Jason remembered a time when he was younger, sitting in this same spot, waiting for Bruce to come home. How had he managed it so well back then? Had he simply believed Bruce was as invincible as Bruce liked to pretend to be?

At some point sleep stole over him, because the sound of a car engine shutting off jerked Jason from his stupor. It was hard to tell behind the cowl, but he was willing to bet that Bruce was arching a brow at the unexpected welcome party.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, sliding from the car and closing its door all in one smooth motion.

Jason considered the question for a moment before shrugging. There wasn't anything wrong per say, just something they needed to talk about. Without Dick and Alfred present. This was between him and Bruce, the others didn't need to get involved.

"No. I wanted to talk to you," he said at length. He set the coffee cup down on the ground, because it felt odd talking to Bruce with it in his hands, like the drink was some sort of security blanket. Jason didn't need to have a security anything to have this conversation, he wasn't a child.

"I heard you were working on a way to get me back to my reality," he said bluntly. He'd tried for the last half an hour before drifting off to find some subtle way to start this conversation, but no stroke of brilliance had come.

Bruce nodded, watching him closely. Jason wished he would take of the cowl. This would be a lot easier if he could see his face.

"I am. We should be able to open a portal back by tomorrow night. It's just a matter of completing the test runs now."

That was supposed to be comforting. Bruce hadn't even used his bat-voice. He honestly thought Jason would be happy about the information. Instead it made him feel like a black hole was trying to eat his insides.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm not planning on going back."

Now Bruce was frowning, the corners of his lips turned down. Jason refused to squirm under that expression. He wasn't a child anymore, Bruce couldn't intimidate him just by looking at him anymore.

"Why don't you want to go back?"

Jason ran a hand though his hair and looked away. He couldn't tell Bruce that in three weeks here he'd experienced more love and acceptance then he had in all his life in his own reality. He couldn't tell Bruce that he wanted to stay and fight alongside this version of Batman, couldn't say he felt sick thinking about Dick fighting against criminals now that he knew first-hand what they could do to a kid that wasn't careful enough. He didn't want to admit that he'd missed Alfred's cooking, trust and unconditional acceptance. He couldn't say that going back to the way things were before would kill him, or kill what little of his sanity he had left.

"There's no one and nothing to go back to there. I could be more help to you here. Gotham always needs more protection," Jason said instead.

Bruce pushed the cowl backwards revealing the full expanse of the expression on his face. It made no more sense to Jason now than it had a moment ago, so he looked over Bruce’s shoulders rather than into Bruce's eyes.

"I can help you here. I know at least parts of what's going to happen to everyone you love. I can keep them safe. I can help you," Jason repeated.

There were few people with a more powerful silence then Bruce. Lesser men had been known to cower under it. Jason stood firm, but still found himself unable to meet the blue, blue eyes staring at him.

"Jason, do you know anything about how the multiple realities are structured?" The softness in Bruce's voce was enough to make Jason flinch. He'd only heard that tone from that voice once, and it had been here, in this world.

"No," he admitted in wooden tones. There was a crack in the stone wall just beyond Bruce's right ear that he focused on.

Bruce ran a hand over his face. He looked older now then he had even before he stepped out of the batmobile. Sympathy was not a look that suited his face.

"We should have this conversation after you've slept," he said.

Indignation, hot and burning, gripped Jason. He clenched his fists and shook his head. "No! I don't need sleep. I'm not going to change my mind just because I've slept!"  
Bruce looked grim. "Jason, you can't stay. The longer you're here the more unstable this reality will become."

Jason blinked. He tried to breath and found that he couldn't. He couldn't feel his body and the world was graying around the edges. He couldn't stay? Couldn't? Just being here was problematic for everyone? A harsh laugh tore from his lips. Wasn't that just typical. He didn't even have to be trying anymore, all he had to do was exist and he fucked everything up.

Strong hands gripped his shoulders and shook, twice. Some of the grayness around the edges of his vision receded, revealing Bruce's face. His brows were drawn together, pinched with worry.

"Calm down. Take a deep breath," he said, his voice full of authority.

"This is so fucking typical," Jason laugh-sob-snarled. "I finally find somewhere that isn't complete shit and all I have to do is wake up in the morning to fuck everything. It’s like a fucking talent at this point."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Bruce insisted, his grip on Jason's shoulders growing slightly tighter.

Jason bowed his head and laughed. He didn't want to look at Bruce any longer. What was the point? Why look at what he couldn't have? He never liked window shopping; it just hurt more when he had to walk away.

"Yeah? Tell that to the other you. He disagrees. Everyone disagrees. Why the fuck did anyone even bother to bring me back?"

Bruce pulled him closer, not quite hugging but giving as much comfort as a man in a Kevlar bat suit could possibly give. Jason looked up because he was too much of a glutton for punishment to stop himself. He should have. The cold rage on Bruce's face was familiar, but that didn't mean that Jason enjoyed seeing it.

"You should never have needed to be brought back. I should have protected you." Each word was spoken slowly and clearly and a shiver of something not quite fear ran down Jason's spine.

"I don't think that," he muttered.

"I do."

Jason stared at Bruce and found himself unable to look away. There were questions hanging on the back of his tongue but his thoughts refused to coalesce so that he could voice them. They tumbled and clattered and mixed in his head until the only thing that Jason was aware of was the litany of please-please-please. He didn't even know what he was asking for anymore.

"Please."

Bruce's face contorted into something that wasn't anger but could have been mistaken for it. He shook his head and a little more of Jason died.

"I can't let you stay. I looked into it. A Jason Todd already exists in this world. There can only be one of you here—"

"Then you might as well kill me now."

Bruce recoiled as if he'd been struck. His eyes widened and flitted over Jason's face at a rapid pace before his lips thinned and turned down.

"No. How could you—"

"If you send me back there, I'll go crazy. I was already crazy. Batshit insane. I did terrible things. I'd rather die here as myself then live there, in some fucking cage in Arkham, as a psychopath."

"I said that you couldn't stay, not that you couldn't come back. You can visit, we can visit you. And I'm not leaving you there until I have a long talk with that version of myself and Dick."

Jason gave a harsh laugh. "Good luck getting either of them to listen to you."

An actual smile found its way to Bruce's face at that. Some of the haggard age lifted at the show of honest amusement. "Dick will listen, and if your Bruce doesn't want to I'll make him."

This was crazy. It shouldn't be possible for this man to have so much control over Jason’s emotions. Jason used to think Dick, his Dick, had serious co-dependency issues and now he wasn't so sure the same couldn't be said of himself. No emotionally stable person should be able to flip-flop from the highs and lows he experienced just at a word from Bruce.

"Don't let Dick get as fucked up as my Grayson and I are. I kind of like this version of the kid." It was a joke, Jason didn't mean it as anything other than a way to sever some of the stupid tension he carried with him everywhere. Instead of laughing, Bruce looked like he wanted to maim someone. The expression only lasted for a few seconds before he forced himself calm once more, but Jason still saw it.

"I will."

Jason waited for Bruce as he changed out of his uniform and into a pair of loose sweet pants and a plain white shirt. They made their way back up the stairs in a sort of companionable silence. Over his life Jason had experienced plenty of silence around Bruce but this was one of the first times that he actually enjoyed it. Alfred was waiting for them at the top of the stairs, two cups of warm chamomile in his hands. Jason returned to his room feeling almost okay about things, almost hopeful about tomorrow and the trip he would be making.

It was hours before they realized Dick was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been reading this story. I love that I get to share it with you. Not that I expect you to find this informational totally thrilling, but if you'd like to hang out with me on tumblr, you're more then welcome. My tumblr is mostly fandom and things that made me laugh.
> 
> Look me up: http://coolstufffromlalacat.tumblr.com/


	9. Chapter 9

"This is totally your fault," Wally said mulishly.

He was out of costume, shifting his weight from foot to foot in agitation as Jason pulled up another emergency contact number to dial. He was surprised to know that Wally not only knew who Dick really was, but also knew where the cave was located. If there weren't more important things to worry about Jason might have been disturbed by how easily Alfred welcomed the kid into Bruce's mansion.

They were currently running thought the list of contact numbers for the members of Dick's team, including one boy who hadn't been present when Jason visited the base. Canary's number was on the list as well, followed immediately by a man named Oliver Queen. When this was all over Jason promised himself he'd find out why a multimillionaire was on a list of crime fighters. Maybe Bruce started a trend.

Wally's name was first on the list, and in less than a minute into the call he'd appeared next to Jason, scaring him half to death and coming close to getting a fist in the face out of pure reflex.

"Shut up if you're not going to be useful. Who's this guy?" Jason added, highlighting the next name on the list; Roy Harper.

"That's Roy."

"Obviously. Why's he next instead of someone else? This isn't listed alphabetically, so what's his significance?"

Wally pursed his lips for a moment and tapped his chin while he considered the question. It made the freckles on his cheeks contort. "He was the second person Dick met as Robin. Dick really likes Roy, and since he doesn't live with Mr. Queen anymore he'd be a good person to go to in order to get away from the mentors."

"How old is Roy?" Jason demanded as he punched the call button. The computer acted as a phone line, signal scrambled so that it was untraceable. The downside to the device was that the computer acted as a form of elaborate speaker phone. Wally would hear anything that was said. Jason didn't particularly care if he heard, but he did wish he had the option of privacy.

"Like, eighteen or something. Why?"

Jason didn't answer. He knew the Dick in his reality, knew how quick the moron was to take affection when it was offered. So far this version of Grayson didn't seem so desperate for physical shows of affection, but Jason couldn't be sure how Dick would react. If he'd left of his own volition, without telling anyone, he was most likely upset about something. Upset people normally liked went somewhere that would make them feel better. Grayson consoled himself with sex. If anyone tried to console a thirteen year old Dick the same way, Jason would not be held responsible for his actions.

"If this is about the water bill again, Olli-" a very young, angry voice demanded from the other end of the line.

Jason cut him off. "I'm not Oliver. I'm calling for the Bat. Is Robin with you?"

A long moment of silence followed.

"How do I know you're with him?"

Wally pushed forward and scowled at the number and picture on the screen as if his displeasure would carry thought to the other boy.

"Shut up Roy. Stop being so paranoid or I'll start calling you Speedy again," he said irritably. "Just tell us if Rob's with you."

"Kid Flash?" Some of the hostility eased from the voice, replaced with vague confusion. "Why are you looking for Robin? Who's the other guy?"

"His name is Jay. He's like, Robin's brother or something. Totally trustable. Rob went AWOL sometime last night. Batman is out looking for him all over the city, and he's not at the base in Mt. Justice or Happy Harbor. No one can get ahold of him, no cell phone, no com, no Megan-mind-meld."

"How do you know he didn't leave because he wanted to? Maybe he doesn't want to be found."

Punk, Jason thought with a nasty edge. It didn't matter if Dick wanted to be found or not. Dick was thirteen, he didn't get to make those decisions, not in a city like Gotham. The mere suggestion that he could was enough to make Jason seriously dislike this Roy. He'd talk to Bruce after they found Dick, maybe explain just how bad an influence Roy could become.

"I'm going to ask you once, nicely, and then I'm not going to be nice and I won’t to be asking anything." Jason spoke slowly, enunciating each word so that there could be no chance for Roy to misunderstand. "Tell me if you know where Robin is, or if you've spoken to him in the last twenty-four hours."

A long silence followed this demand. Wally's stare bore holes into the screen, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. Jason ignored him and counted to ten silently. If he didn't get an answer before the count ran out he'd be printing out Roy's address and taking matters into his own hands.

On seven, Roy spoke. "He called me late last night. Sounded a little upset."

"What did he say?"

"He wanted to know if I'd heard of any of Ollie’s buildings undergoing renovations in the last two weeks. He didn't tell me why."

"And you didn't ask?" Wally demanded in outrage. He pulled at his red hair and shook his fists at the screen. "This is Rob we're talking about! He's bound to do something crazy if he's off on his own. Did you forget about the Cadmus incident?"

"He's a big boy. He knows what he's doing better than anyone else in your little club," Roy countered, but he sounded angry, defensive even.

"Robin is thirteen years old. He way be more skilled then all of you combined, he's definitely more intelligent then you, Roy, but that doesn't mean he's any more mature then other pre-teens," Jason growled.

"Look, I've known Rob for years and you've never been around. I think I'd know if—"

"You don't think, you arrogant little shit!"

Wally flinched. He turned away from the computer screen for the first time since the call started, but Jason ignored him.

"He disappeared after a conversation on dimension hopping. What are you going to do if he hops himself right into a war zone? Or a fucking volcano?"

"Ollie's got a lab in downtown Gotham. It closed for renovations the beginning of last week. The building is only two years old," Roy said stiffly.

"Address?" Jason glanced around and found no slip of paper or pen. A breeze ruffled his hair and Wally blinked out of sight on his right, only to reappear a second later on his left with pen and paper in hand. Convenient.  
"1576 High Street."

Jason didn't bother saying goodbye before he hung up. Roy didn't deserve it. If anything happened to Dick he'd be the first one Jason took it out on. Eighteen was old enough to know when to and when not to do something. Jason should know, he'd had three years since he was eighteen and dipped in that stupid Lazarus pit to figure things out.  
"Run to the lab, I'll meet you there. Stop Dick if he’s there."

Wally nodded. He reached into his backpack and pulled out the garishly bright uniform. Jason had a moment to marvel over how eye catching it was before Wally blurred out of sight and reappeared in the getup. The mask over his face did little to hide his unease.

"Should we call Batman?" he asked, poised on the tips of his toes, facing the exit.

Jason nodded. He opened the glass case and pulled out the mast Dick had given him the other day. Somehow, putting it on felt right even in a situation like this.  
"I'll take care of that. You just go and make sure Dick isn't doing anything to get himself killed."

Wally was gone before he'd even finished the sentence. Jason followed on one of the bikes, breaking every speed limit in Gotham on his way. Conversation with Bruce was short and to the point, the address and a rundown of the call to Roy as all he needed before he was growling obscenities and demanding Jason meet him at the building. The batmobile was parked out front by the time Jason arrived, and the glass double doors were thrown open in invitation.

The building was stark and clean to a near obsessive degree. Nothing looked like it was being renovated, and nothing looked like it should be either. Only the sound of wind whipping around on the floor above clued Jason into where to look for the others. The wind was Wally, running in fast, tight circles as he babbled something at speeds Jason couldn't even hope to understand. Bruce stood a little to the left of him, cape wiping in the unnatural wind and hands clenched into tight fists. Neither of these things caught Jason's interest, instead it was the swirling mess of light and color before them that did that.

It was a disk, like a penny stretched out, enlarged to the size of a man, but still just as thin. A ring of gold circled it, containing it but only just barely. Cables connected the ring to the ceiling, anchoring it and feeding it with power from the machine taking up the back wall of the room. Lightning crackled across its smooth plain, making the colors along its surface shimmer and ripple like a disturbed pond. It might have been beautiful if there hadn't been such an ominous feeling choking everything in the room.  
"Batman, where's Robin?" Jason asked, stepping slowly into the room. He gave the ring a wide berth.

"In there," Bruce replied stiffly. "We didn't get here in time. Kid Flash saw him enter the portal, but couldn't stop him."

Jason glanced at the little tornado that was Wally, and then at the ring again. "So what are we standing here for? Let's go in there and get him back."

"I told you we were waiting on the energy necessary to use the portal. It had enough for a one way trip, and that was it. We can't go after him." There was something tight and almost brittle in Bruce's voice as he spoke. His fists shook as he watched the portal.

So Dick was gone? Just like that? He stepped through that portal and now there was nothing they could do for him? "Where is it supposed to come out? Where will it drop him?"  
"The cave. It's programed to open a portal into the cave. I was going to have a conversation with the Batman from your reality."

"And then what, stay there? You only powered it for a one way trip!"

Bruce finally pulled his gaze away from the portal to focus on Jason instead. He tried not to wilt under the look of pure anger radiating out from behind the black cowl, tried to tell himself that it was directed at the situation and not himself, but even still Jason could feel his hackles rising in defense.

"That was before last night, before we spoke. I was going to have you wait for another week, so that there would be enough power for two trips," Bruce said flatly, and it was stupid and idiotic and so far from the right moment to feel anything other than concern for Dick, but happiness flashed through the pit of Jason's stomach anyway. Guilt nearly drowned it a moment later, but the initial spark was still there.

"There's gotta be something we can do," said Wally in a rush. He came to an abrupt stop between them and glanced back and forth as if he expected an immediate solution to tumble from Bruce's lips. It almost made Jason want to laugh to see the amount of faith Wally had in Batman. There was one a time when Jason thought he could do anything as well. Maybe he was starting to again, because he turned expectant eyes onto Bruce as well.

"I'll call Uncle B—The Flash, or we could call Superman or –" Wally babbled, but Bruce cut him off abruptly.

He lifted a hand to his right ear and pressed down on the communicator embedded in the mask. He waited for a short moment and then said, "Superman, we have a situation. It's about Robin."  
A sound like thunder clapping shook the building and then Superman was just there. Jason jumped, banging his shoulder into Wally by accident in his surprise. He's seen Superman fly, but never move that fast. How did Bruce not have an inferiority complex when he hung around people like that?

"What happened to Robin?" Superman asked, glancing around the room with clear concern all over his face.

Bruce gestured towards the portal. "A misguided attempt to fix things on his own, I think. He sent himself to Jay's reality without telling anyone what he was doing. He's been gone for approximately forty-five minutes, missing for almost ten. There isn't enough power left in the machine to facilitate another trip to retrieve him."

Superman's lips turned down into a deep frown. He too turned to regard the portal. His vibrant blue eyes turned back to Jason, who made a conscious effort not to stiffen. Superman liked Dick, might even think of him as family with the way he showed up here so quickly once he was called. It was well within the realm of possibility that he'd blame Jason for this. After all, Dick wouldn't have done something so stupid if it hadn't been for Jason's little breakdown the other night.

"Do we have a plan for bringing him back? I don't like the idea of leaving him in that reality any more then I like the thought of you going back to it," Superman said instead of accusations.

Jason was too stunned to respond. There was no reason for Superman to care about what happened to Jason. He had nothing to do with the guy, and what the hell difference did it make if Jason went home or not to Superman? Why would he look at Jason the same way he'd looked at Dick?

"We do, if you're willing. The machine needs power, something you have in spades. If I can configure the machine to run off of the power that you give off for a short while it should be enough to jump, grab Robin, and jump back. The problem is that I have very little clue how much power is going to be required for something like this," Bruce explained. He was already moving across the room, towards the control panels for the portal.

"You're not concerned you'll be able to configure the devise to be compatible with me?" Superman asked, moving to follow without hesitation.

Wally lingered a moment, glanced back at Jason, and then fell into step with the others. Jason trailed at his heels, trying not to let the craziness of the situation get to him.  
"It runs off of solar energy anyway. It won't be hard to make the switch. Are you up to taking the risk? For all I know it could leech you dry."

"It won't and I'm not worried. You just get Dick back before anything happens to him over there. I didn't think Gotham could be any more dangerous than it already is, but that Gotham sounds poisonous."

Superman glanced at the portal and very nearly shuttered as he said this. Wally glanced between him and Jason, looking confused and intrigued. It looked like Dick hadn't shared the entire story concerning Jason's post with his friend then. Or maybe Brue hadn't told Dick either, Jason certainly hadn't brought up his death, killing sprees or mental breakdowns in conversation after all.

Bruce gave a grim nod before throwing all on his concentration onto this machine. "Then let's get started."


	10. Chapter 10

The night had been long. Most of the nights in the last month and a half since Jason's resurrection and subsequent disappearance were. It didn't matter that there was no body, that he'd already buried his child once, there was still a gaping hole in Bruce's chest that nothing seemed to be able to fix. Dick and Alfred both noticed it, but over the years he'd become skilled at ignoring their concern and they in turn had become skilled at not asking for explanations.

While Alfred knew at least the basics of what had transpired that night in the old apartment building, Dick did not. For some reason that knowledge was kept close to Bruce's conscience. He could imagine the look of shock, of anger on his face if Dick ever found out the truth. He already knew how Dick would react if he discovered just how badly Bruce had failed Jason. Worse still, he knew that somehow Dick would find fault in himself as well.

Better to avoid the conversation entirely.

There was no sign of Jason since that night in the apartment building. He was alive, of that Bruce was absolutely certain. He remembered pulling Jason out of the way of the explosion, remembered the force of the blast ripping him from his grasp, but not where Jason had landed. The Joker lived like the parasite that he was. Nothing short of the apocalypse would kill that creature and more was the pity.

He sighed deeply and sank into the chair in front of the computer screens. It was becoming a nightly ritual to go through all the security footage he had access to in Gotham in search of Jason. The computer ran through hours of film footage, referencing and cross referencing images against the photos he had of Jason as the Red Hood.

He had yet to have any results. Tonight was no different.

Bruce pushed the cowl back from his face and ran a hand through his short hair. He ached, a bone deep, all-consuming pain that had no cure. There was more to do before the evening could come to a close and he had no energy with which to do it. Not for the first time he found himself considering making contact with the vigilantes from other cities. Perhaps the detective running around in red spandex in Star City would be able to help him locate Jason. Or maybe the alien from Metropolis.

Light flashed in the far corner of the cave. Static electricity ran along the short edges of his hair, making it stand on end. Bruce stood up and pulled his mask back down over his face. Pressure built in the room, making him feel like he'd sunk deep into water. It warped the sounds of the night around him, turning them echoing and vague. The flashing light condensed, concentrated into a ball that grew and stretched like a rubber band before it snapped and something tumbled out of its glow.

Bruce's mind raced. He'd seen occurrences like this before, but rarely within Gotham itself and never so close. Rarely did anything positive exit out of one of those flashes of light. More often than not they resulted in Metropolis nearly in ruins and the alien battling creatures that should never have stepped foot into this world. There was no reason for now to be any different, or for whatever came out of the light to be a non-hostile. It was just his luck that the portal opened here, in the cave, rather than out in the streets of his city.

Smooth, silent steps carried him around the computer console and closer to the now darkened corner to inspect his uninvited guest. A twist of the writs had a razor sharp, thin throwing knife resting in the palm of this hand. Strike first, ask questions later. Maybe that would keep the destruction to a minimum.

Red and yellow flickered out of the gloom and Bruce felt ice rush thought his veins.

A small, dark haired boy was rolling to his feet. One gloved hand rose to rub at his head and the other clenched into a fist. He looked around, the mask on his face a perfect replica of the mask hanging in the glass case behind Bruce. His eyes landed on Bruce. A wide smile turned up the corners of his lips. It was Jason's smile.

"Hi, Batman, I'm—" the boy began, and his voice was high and young and utterly unafraid.

The bat shaped knife was out of his hands and whizzing past the boy's right ear before Bruce even continually thought about it. It imbedded in the wall with a soft hiss of sound and quivered. The boy gave a startled yelp and leapt to the left, well before the blade was anywhere near him. Perfect reflexes, despite the fact that the blade was never meant to hit him.

"Who sent you here?" Bruce demanded. He pitched his own voice low and cold, a tone he knew from experience frighten men far older than this child.

The boy glared at him and dropped into a crouch, hands at the ready. Bruce knew that pose, had taught it to two different Robin now. He had not taught this boy, with his altered suit and his ghost of Jason's smile.

"No one sent me, I came on my own. Just chill out Bruce. All I want to do it talk," the boy said.

Bruce. The boy knew him by name. Knew him by name and came out of one of those portals, where nothing but trouble ever originated. He moved like a Robin, wore the costume like he owned it, looked and spoke to Bruce without fear.

It couldn't be Scarecrow, the computer was programmed to sound an alarm if his fear toxin was ever detected within the cave. Joker was back in Arkham, with more broken bones then Bruce cared to count, but that meant very little. He could easily have found a street child willing to play pretend for the money to eat. This wasn't his style thought. He would have wanted Bruce to know that the boy was sent by his behest, and there was nothing about the boy to indicate that. Ras Al Ghul then. He'd tried to "make right" his wrong with Jason before, maybe this was just another attempt.

"I have nothing to say to you. Go back to where you came from before you get yourself hurt."

At his words the boy frowned even deeper. He shook his head, never taking his eyes off of Bruce and said, "No. We need to talk. It's about Jason, he—"

Another knife thrown, and this time the boy dropped flat to the floor to avoid it. He bounced back to his feet with a grace that no one but Dick ever had. "What is wrong with you! I'm just trying to talk!"

Bruce considered his options. He didn't want to hurt the boy, but he would if it came down to that. He knew who Batman really was, which meant he had to have some idea about Dick, Barbara, even Alfred. They were all in danger as long as he let his boy wander free. He needed to be detained and questions properly, so that the threat could be ascertained. If Rash sent him, the boy most likely wouldn't go after the others, but there was already too much blood on Bruce's hands. He would not risk his family's lives again.

He charged the boy, noting the wide eyed surprise and then the grim determination that flashed across his face. The first blow proved that the boy was good. He ducked and weaved out of the way of injury like he knew exactly were an attack would come from before it came. He blocked, but did not return with any attacks of his own. It proved the boy was well trained, probably for years. Neither the Joker nor any other Gotham based criminal was dedicated or talented enough to have taught this boy.

"Why. Won't. You. Listen?" he shouted, each word punctuated by a block.

Bruce swept his foot out, knocking the boy's out from underneath him. The boy fell, twisting along the way like a cat so that he rolled onto his hands and sprung through a backwards flip to land on his toes atop the car. Bruce pressed his index and pinky together, feeling the activation button hidden in his gloves. Crackles of low level electricity danced across the outer shell of the car. The boy shook and twitched as the current coursed through him, jaw clenched to stifle a scream. Bruce counted to ten and then lifted his finger from the button.

It was a safe guard he'd had installed in the car after the incident with Jason, one he hadn't needed to use until now. The electrical shock wasn't enough to seriously injure the boy, only stun him for a few moments. It wouldn't even drop a fully grown man unless Bruce kept the charge going.

The boy toppled over sideways, hit the hood of the car and slid off into a slump on the ground. Bruce tried not to wince at the thud the boy's shoulder and head made when they made contact with the tarmac. Even if Al Ghul was the one behind this, the boy couldn't be any older then eleven. Still young and impressionable enough to not understand the gravity of what he was doing.

The boy twitched, his fingers clenching and unclenching uncontrollably. He crouched down and lifted the child up into his arms to carry back to the chair before the computer consol. He could feel the Kevlar beneath the boy's suit, but even still the boy weighted next to nothing. Images of Dick and Jason, hurt or too tired to walk on their own flashed through his memory and that empty space deep in his chest ached.

He set the boy down gingerly in his chair and wrapped wire around his chest, wrists and ankles so there could be no chance of the boy escaping. There were footsteps coming from the stairs and the elevator back up to the house, so either Dick was hobbling down with his crutches or Alfred was coming to check on him, but either way he was glad the danger had been neutralized.

As gently as he could, Bruce pulled the mask off of the boy's face.

And froze.

"Bruce? Hey, is everything alright down here?" Dick asked from behind him.

The Dick in front of him glared and struggled with his bonds.

Perhaps he'd been wrong. Perhaps this was all an attempt to drive him crazy. A second flash of light appeared right where the last one had manifested. As it cast shadows against Dick's young face Bruce found himself thinking the plan just might be working.


	11. Chapter 11

The worst case of pins and needles had nothing on the feeling that flooded Jason's body as he stepped through that light. He recognized it only vaguely from the first time he jumped between worlds, but even that feeling wasn't the same as this. The only difference between then and now that he could think of was Superman, and Jason resolved to not think too deeply about the implications of that.

He and Bruce were the only ones making this trip. Intellectually, the reason to leave Wally behind made sense. If Superman started to look like powering the machine was taking too much of a toll someone had to be there to disconnect him. Wally was fast, almost as fast as Superman himself, certainly faster than anyone else who'd been in the room, so he could disconnect the machine in a matter of seconds if need be. He was also the only one that had understood what Bruce was doing when he recalibrated the portal. With Jason's luck he would kill Superman before he actually managed to help if he were the one to stay.

That didn't stop him from wishing that this search and rescue team was made up of three, rather than two. His Bruce wasn't likely to hurt Dick, at least not once he got a good look at the kid. Bruce held a soft spot in his nearly non-existent soul for the first Robin, even kept a photo of them together on his dresser, the only image in the house that didn't look like it belonged in a mausoleum. It was almost normal, almost something a real parent would do. The Bruce behind him on the other hand had most of his house covers in family photos. The only image that didn’t have him with a small, smiling Dick was the painting of Bruce’s parents in the study on the second floor, right above the secret entrance to the cave.

Jason smirked, amused despite himself that the difference in the two Bruce's tastes in photo decorations should be what occupied his mind while traveling between worlds. If he hadn't thought he was crazy before he certainly did now.

The light faded from his eyes in increments. Just as it cleared from his sight the ground seemed to drop out from under him and Jason lurched forward. He rolled over his shoulder and came back up in a ready crouch. Bruce was already straitening up, his head turning from side to side as he took in the cave. It looked more or less exactly like the one in the other reality. Same computers, same car, same staircase to reach the house. The only thing different was the glass case set beside the computers like a memorial to a fallen solder.

And the older version of Dick and Bruce standing before the occupied computer chair.

The air left his lungs as totally as a punch to the gut. There was really no reason for it, Jason new he would be seeing them again, knew how different both were from the Bruce and Dick he'd found in the new reality. Somehow that knowledge did nothing to help soften the blow that came with the suspicious tilting of that cowl covered head. Old resentment flared hot and strong, closing his throat up with more emotions then he cared to focus on. This Bruce thought nothing of him, was willing to let the Joker walk free after everything he did, never tried hard enough to actually understand Jason. This Bruce would always shoot first and ask questions later.

He watched as the Batman stepped smoothly in front of the injured Nightwing and stared down his younger counterpart, ignoring Jason for the moment. The difference between them was almost shocking. His Bruce was wider, more muscular then the younger counterpart, had deeper frown lines clinging to the sides of his pale lips. Every last bit of his stance screamed aggression and intimidation, looming in the gloom like some sort of devil. In contrast, the younger Bruce stood erect and loose, ready to move at any moment but not blatantly hostile. One was The Batman, at all times and under all circumstances; the other could still distinguish between himself and the persona.

"Well, this is awkward. Imaging, showing up to the party with the same outfit," Grayson said glibly, leaning out over the side of Batman's shoulder. His mask was off, just like the younger Dick tide to the chair, leaving both their bright blue eyes unobstructed. Dark circles clung to Grayson’s eyes and Jason tried hard not to feel anything at the sight of them. Grayson probably didn't even know who he was, not with the way Batman liked to hoard his secrets.

Bruce stiffened at the sound of Grayson's voice. His eyes flickered towards the grown version of his charge and some of the hardness smoothed from his chin. That moment of distraction did not go unnoticed. Batman moved with a speed and grace that would never cease to amaze Jason, hurling a stylized knife at his counterpart's shoulder. Bruce slipped easily to the right and back, forcing Jason to move with him out of the way of the attack.

"Stop it!"

Every muscle in Jason's body froze for just a moment, like the prelude to a muscle cramp that never came. That was Dick's voice. Sweat, friendly little Dick who was still young and stupid enough to think he could make a difference. Batman ignored the outburst and continued his assault on Bruce, but Grayson did not. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening slightly. Maybe he hadn't realized just who Batman had strapped to the chair behind him, but that wasn't going to stop Jason from socking him right in the face for the oversight.

Jason darted around the two men locked in their struggle and rushed Grayson. He was already injured, favoring his right leg and leaning heavily in his crutches. It wasn't going to take much to knock him out of the game, grab Dick and get him the hell out of here before anything worse could happen. Jason took a swipe at Grayson's injured leg, aiming more for his hip than anything else because as much as he resented the man, he didn't want to actually hurt him more than necessary.

He needn't have bothered with the caution. Grayson twisted to the right and sprang up. Defying all laws of gravity, he used the crutches like spring boards and swung up with his good leg. Jason skidded to a halt, realized he had no hope of avoiding the blow and so twisted enough for it to hit his shoulder rather than his face. Even still, the force of the kick nearly upended him. Grayson followed the motion in a perfectly controlled arc, flipping in the air, swinging the fucking crutched as a second attack along the way, and landed in a smooth crouch.

And that, that right there, was why Jason had never matched up to his predecessor in Bruce's mind. How could he, when gravity was optional for Richard Grayson?

Grayson was now right alongside the chair and Dick. His lips were pressed into a thin line and his shoulders hunched slightly. He didn't take his eyes off of Jason, but there was something searching in his expression that hadn't been there a moment ago. Very slowly he pushed himself to his feet, using the crutches for support. He held his hands out as much as he could from the grips, wiggling his fingers a bit to indicate that he had no weapons in his them. Jason appreciated the gesture, even if he knew both former Roben's were deadly without any weapons.

"Do I know you?" Grayson asked carefully, his blue eyes narrowing.

"That's Jason! Come on guys, let's get with the program here," Dick snapped. He twisted, moving his body in relation to his shoulder in a way that no one should have been able to, that might have shocked Jason if it wasn't the exact same move Dick used to get out of his restraints in that cabin so many weeks ago.

Grayson paled, his eyes widening and mouth falling open the smallest bit. Dick grinned at him, showing more teeth then he really needed to as the cords dropped away from his body. When Grayson didn't immediately look away he waved.

"I know, we're pretty whelming," he said as he reached down to untie his feet.

"We," Grayson repeated. He blinked. Blinked again, and suddenly his head was whipping around. He hobbled forward so quickly he nearly tripped, and Jason couldn't decide whether to back away or laugh. "Jason? Jason Todd?"

Jason could feel his lips pulling back into a smirk, could feel them move as he answered, but the words didn't seem like they were coming from him. He should have more to say to such a stupid question than, "The one and only." How could you not recognize me, maybe? Or possibly, do you even care? Not something so glib and easy.

Grayson opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish starved for water. His blinked rapidly, glanced at Batman and Bruce, both of whom had gone utterly still at the remark. And then his face turned hard again. He locked his jaw and hobbled forward quickly and almost smoothly if Jason ignored the minor tremors shacking Grayson's arms. He tensed, expecting some sort of attack but unwilling to throw then first punch, and then Grayson was tossing down the crutches and throwing himself against Jason.

He was still shorter, probably always would be, but every last bit of Grayson was hard muscles. His arms wrapped around Jason's shoulders and he pulled Jason down into a tight, crushing hug. He was shaking and muttering something that Jason couldn't quite make out through the choking emotion in Grayson's voice.

"Alive. You're alive. Bruce, he's alive," Grayson croaked.

Jason blinked over his shoulder, bemused despite himself. Dick flashed him a thumbs up, looking entirely satisfied with himself.

Grayson pulled away just enough to look Jason in the face. He reached up and removed the mask obscuring his face, taking care to be as gentle as possible. Tears gathered in the corners of his own eyes when they locked gazes and Jason suddenly found himself uncomfortably aware that he had nothing good to say. He hadn't realized Grayson cared about him one way or another. He was nice enough when they had to see each other but it wasn't like Grayson had ever went out of his way to tell Jason he mattered in the long run.  
Hell, with Jason gone Grayson didn't have to compete with anyone over Bruce's remarkably scarce affection.

"How?" Grayson asked thickly. "All this time? Where…? How…?"

Jason shrugged. Grayson was teetering on his good leg, the bad one held slightly off the floor. His hands moved unconsciously under Grayson's elbows, ready to catch him should he fall. "Long story."

"We got time," Dick piped in helpfully.

No, not really. Not when their battery supply between realities was a giant, primary colored guy in spandex.

"Bruce, Bruce. It's Jason!" Grayson called, straining to catch the older Bruce's eye.

Batman gave a deep sigh. His broad shoulders dropped and he stepped away from his younger counterpart before he pushed the cowl back from his face. He looked weathered, aged before his time. His hair was still jet black, his eyes still bright, but his face was drawn and new lines of stress hovered around his mouth and eyes. He looked squarely at Grayson, all expression blank from his face. Jason knew from experience that he was about to say something painful, something that would hurt Grayson, or Jason, or maybe both of them at once.

"I know, Dick. I've known for a while."

Grayson blinked, his eyes moving over Bruce's unmasked face searchingly.

"You knew? That he was alive? And you didn't tell me?" Jason could hear the plea in the question, could hear how badly Grayson wanted to be wrong.  
Bruce nodded.

Grayson pulled away from Jason and hopped towards Bruce. His hands were clenched into fists and it would have been funny watching him advance towards Bruce like a pissed off rabbit, if the younger Bruce hadn't looked so concerned all of the sudden.

"Stop, you're going to hurt yourself more," he said gruffly.

Grayson ignored him. "You knew Jason was alive, for five years, and you let me think he was dead? Why? What reason could you possibly have for keeping something like this a secret from me?"

"Not five years. At this point it's more like a good two months," Jason said before he could stop himself.

Grayson glanced back at him sharply, nearly knocking himself over with the action. "What do you mean, two months?"

"He's Red Hood," the older Bruce said like condemnation.

Grayson looked back at Bruce, at Jason, then at Bruce again before allowing himself to sink to the ground like a puppet whose string had been cut. "All those people? Jason would never do that. He would never kill all of those people so brutally."

"I would," Jason said softly into the silence of the cave.

No one moved, partially because any sudden action could be taken as a threat at this point and partially because half the occupants in the room were preoccupied. Dick stood tensely in the periphery of Jason's vision, waiting for any sign from his Bruce that he should move. None was given. It suddenly occurred to Jason that Dick might not know the true extent of his transgressions in this world. Bruce did in the vaguest sense, but even he had not seen the bag full of human heads, the demolished buildings, the unsympathetic killings he had dealt out. His methods might have been extreme, but Jason still believed in his heart of hearts that he was right. Those men and women knew what they were doing when they sold drugs to kids, when the ordered hits, when they rapped and pillaged and plundered Gotham. They had to be stopped, and sometimes fear just wasn't enough.

Some men were so far beyond fear that all they understood was who had the bigger crowbar.

Bruce stepped forward, pushing his cowl back from his face as well. Bruce, because he cared and he at least tried a bit before he inevitably gave up on Jason as well. Wayne didn't have it in him to do likewise, that much was obvious from the disassociated way he viewed the scene. Bruce came to stand beside his older counterpart, and Wayne watched him coolly the whole way.

"We need to talk about that," he said with absolute calm. Like he wasn't talking to his older, harsher self, like he wasn't trying to do the impossible and find something redeeming in Jason.

"I don't see why we need to discuss anything with you. Why are you here?" Wayne growled.

Dick moved forward. He hovered closer to Jason's side for a moment, glaring at Wayne like that might do any good, before Grayson moved. He reached for his crutches, and missed by a mile. Dick bent down, scooped them up, and then brought them to Grayson in silence. His head was tilted to the side, an eyebrow raised.

"We didn't get all that much taller. Wally's always going to have the height on me," he muttered.

"Who's Wally?" Grayson asked, accepting the crutches with a grateful nod.

Dick's mouth twisted down into a frown. "You don't know Wally? Kid Flash? Our best friend?"

"There is no Kid Flash now, just an adult Flash over in Keystone. I've never met him," Grayson replied slowly, climbing to his feet.

Dick shook his head and cast Wayne a dirty look. "Not astrous, not at all. What, did you guys never work with the other heroes?"

"Not if I could help it," Wayne admitted.

"He doesn't play well with others," Jason muttered.

"Oh, my. This is quite unexpected. Master Bruce, there seems to be a disturbance that needs your attention."

As one every head in the cave turned to focus on the staircase leading down from the house. It was a conditioned response. After all, to ignore Alfred was unthinkable. And this Alfred was the one that used to slip Jason cookies when he wasn't supposed to. This Alfred was the one that listened to all his teenaged angst back before Jason truly understood what trouble was. This was the Alfred that was taking the appearance in his home of an ex-Robin that should be dead, and the younger version of Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson as a matter of course.

His eyes flitted over the younger Bruce and the younger Dick, before coming to rest on Jason. Their gazes locked and at once Jason realized that Alfred knew everything. Knew what he did, knew who he was, new the darkness that he's allowed to consume his soul. Disappointment was almost a tangible thing as it rolled off of him in waves. He moved off the final step and crossed the room in easy, smooth strides. Jason tensed, unsure what he expected but positive it wouldn't be good.

Alfred raised his hand and placed it on Jason's shoulder. It felt heavy there.

"It's good to have you back, Master Jason," he said.

Jason nodded and stared down at his feet because it was easier then meeting Alfred's eyes.

Wayne cleared his throat. He was beside Grayson, trying not to stare at the younger Dick who in return was actively trying to catch his eye and stare him down. A smile tugged at the corners of Jason's lips before he swallowed it back down. Bruce hadn't moved, but he watched Alfred and Jason, his eyes sharp and focused.

"What's the problem, Alfred?"

He hesitated for a long moment before answering, something Alfred rarely did. He did not look away from Wayne's face, but Jason knew the cause for the hesitation. He would have been more surprised if his presence didn't discomfort Alfred.

"It would seem that there has been a murder and a subsequent break out from Arkham Asylum," he said at length.

Wayne's eyes narrowed. "Who was killed, and who escaped?"

Alfred's eyes flitted towards Jason, and then Dick, before returning to Wayne. Jason could feel the beat of his heart pulsing in his fingertips. "A guard by the name of Steven 

Thompson, from the isolation wing. The Joker had escaped."


	12. Chapter 12

There was a saying, "life isn't fair." That was true enough, definitely not something that Jason was going to argue against. The problem was just now unfair life could be wasn't properly explained in that simple phrase. If life was fair his mother and father would never had become addicts or died. If life was fair he never would have ended up on the streets stealing from anything that moved just to feed himself. If life was fair Bruce would be less jaded, or smart enough to know that someone so broken shouldn't try to touch other broken souls. If life was fair the Joker would be rotting in a shallow grave somewhere without even upturned earth to mark his passing.  
Life was obviously not fair, because the bastard was out and about in Gotham once again.

Jason considered the merits of breaking something really expensive in the cave to let out some of his anger.

Wayne was watching him, eyes narrowed and mouth thinly pressed together. What did it matter in the long run? He wasn't going to kill the Joker and he wasn't going to kill Jason. All he was good for was throwing overbearing looks around. Jason could take that, he could ignore it and move on. Hell, there was even something for him to do now, somewhere to direct his anger.

"Right, well I think I'll just go take care of that then," he said, raising one hand to give the room at large an irreverent salute.

"NO!"

Two sets of hands clamped down on Jason's arms with enough strength between them to draw him up short. Dick glowered up at him. There were actually red splotches on his face from the upwelling of emotions, and that was something Jason hadn't seen since he was a kid and Bruce let slip he was thinking of adopting him when Grayson was around. He glanced to the right, at the other restraining hand's owner, and grinned. Good to see some things never changed. Grayson had the same spots of red on his face and creeping up his neck that Dick displayed. It was kind of cute actually, in a fucked up sort of way.

"Do you honestly think it's a good idea to go out and fight the guy that blew you up? Now, right after we got you back?" Grayson demanded sharply.

"You didn't just get me back."

He wanted to take it back the moment the words left his mouth. Grayson flinched ever so slightly, Dick's fingers dug harder into Jason's arm. Some of the fire in Grayson's eyes dimmed as he looked away. A deep breath slipped in and out of his nose, something Jason only remembered him doing quite like that in times of distress. When he looked back  
up the skin around Grayson's mouth and eyes seemed harder somehow, less forgiving.

"You shouldn't go. You're too close to the situation to be clear headed when you find the Joker. You could make a mistake, he could get lucky. You might get hurt again."

Jason was half way through an angry retort when Dick twisted the skin on his wrist so hard and so fast that Jason actually yelped. He snatched his hand away and cursed, glaring down at Dick, who glared right back.

"That's his slightly stupid way of saying he's concerned," he said, trying to loom at Jason the way Bruce did and coming much closer to achieving the overall effect than a thirteen year old should.

He couldn't make himself respond now. Grayson was still watching him, still waiting for an answer. He looked stupid too, all dressed up like Nightwing when his leg was either broken or sprained so badly he couldn't walk without crutches. What did he expect to do, hobble down the middle of the street and hope the criminals came to him? Better yet, what would he do when they did? Jason didn't have a gun, and he didn't want to kill Grayson if he got the opportunity. The thugs out on the streets of Gotham City and Bloodhaven couldn't claim the same. Just letting him put that suit on in his condition was dangerous.

Bruce moved forward. He gave a brief nod of his head to Alfred, which Alfred returned without as much as a twitch. Wayne shadowed him with slow, quiet steps.

"I think Dick is right," Bruce said, and both versions of Richard Grayson turned to look at him. Another nod of the head indicated that Bruce was referring to the older version of his charge. "It's not a good situation, and definitely not one that you should put yourself in if at all avoidable. Let us handle the Joker," he added, gesturing to Wayne.

"Yeah, there are two Batmen and a Robin in Gotham tonight. We got this covered," Dick piped in.

"You're not going," Jason growled, his sentiment echoed by everyone else in the room, including Alfred. Something was squeezing his heart now, making his breath run short at the mere thought of Dick getting within spitting distance of that maniac. Images of Dick, broken, blooded, and dead flashed through Jason's mind. Joker would do it, he would rip Dick apart just because he wore the Robin uniform. He would even think it was funny that he got to kill two of Batman's little birds.

Dick flinched at the volatile response to his comment, but didn't show any other signs of backing down. He pulled his hand back from the vicinity of Jason's person and stood to the full extent of his height. It still put him under Jason's collar bone. Had Grayson really looked that young once? Had Jason?

"I thought that was the whole point of coming here. We were going to talk to Angry Bruce and Angry Dick, kick the Joker's butt, and then work everything out with Jason," Dick said, crossing his arms over his chest as he spoke.

Grayson gave a sound of protest at the 'angry' comment, but Wayne's reaction was enough to bring Jason up short. It was only for a moment, and slight even then, but he was sure the corners of Wayne's lips had flickered upwards in an involuntary smile. Any hint of it was gone almost before Jason realized what he'd seen, however. With a throat clearing growl Wayne made his opinions known.

"You are staying here. This isn't your Gotham, he isn't your Joker. You are not coming. Stay with him, Dick," he added, catching Grayson's eyes. "You're a liability with that leg and I'm not having you get involved in this tonight."

Grayson looked like he wanted to protest. Jason shifted his feet so that the toe of his boot clipped Grayson's injured leg in what might have looked like an accident to anyone other than the people standing in the room. A hiss of pain made its way past Grayson's lips before he could stop it. Pale faced, but still determined not to back down, he continued to stared at Wayne.

"This is non-negotiable."

Bruce frowned at Wayne's harsh tone. Jason watched as his eyes travel back and forth between his older self and the man Dick would someday grow into. Maybe now he was beginning to see where some of the problems came from. It was hard to interact with the Bruce Wayne from this Gotham even when you were perfect, like Richard Grayson. Jason Todd never had a chance.

"If you're worried he'll get hurt just say so. Dick isn't stupid, he understands the risks involved with what we do."

Absolute silence filled the cave. Wayne stood tense, his shoulders so stiff they looked ready to break right off with the slightest provocation. He looked past Grayson, gathering himself, before turning to face Bruce. For one wild moment it looked like he would hit his younger self, so much so that even Alfred took a step forward between them. The motion was enough to rein Wayne in again. He took a deep breath in and out through his nose before speaking.

"You aren't welcome any more than your Robin is. This is my city, stay out of it."

"Gotham is Batman's city, and I am Batman. You're no more level headed then Jason is. Would you rather your ego and your anger give the Joker an opportunity to hurt this family again?" Bruce growled back, unyielding.

Wayne's hands curled into fists, but no immediate answer was forthcoming. Jason couldn't take his eyes away from the sight. He'd never seen anyone but Alfred leave his Bruce Wayne at a loss for words like he was now. It was the family remark, it had to be. Nothing else would have mattered to Bruce that much, nothing had the potential to affect him so deeply.

"You should take the visiting Master Bruce with you," Alfred said. His voice was smooth and calm, even if the rest of the room wasn't. Jason half expected Wayne to argue, but the level eyed stare Alfred was sending him seemed to work where reason had not. Wayne turned away and stalked to the Batmobile, ignoring both Dick and Grayson as he moved past them. His eyes didn't even flicker towards Jason.

"Get in," he called over his shoulder as acceptance.

Bruce pulled the cowl back up over his face and followed. He clapped Dick on the shoulder as he passed, studiously ignoring the pleading look the kid sent his way. Grayson stared at him like a drowning man stared at a raft in the middle of the ocean but stayed silent. Jason fell into step behind Bruce.

"You are not coming," he said sharply, stopping in his tracks. Wayne watched from the driver's side door of the Batmobile.

"Yes, I am. I need this, Bruce, I need to face him." It was the only way to end all of this, to bring him some measure of peace. Bruce had to understand that. After everything he'd told the man there was no way he could deny Jason this.

"I'm not going to let you kill a man in cold blood. I'm not going to let you hurt yourself anymore then you already have." And there it was again, the tone of voice that only this other version of Bruce seemed capable of using. The one that made it sound like he actually cared.

Jason shook his head and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "I'm not going to kill him. Might beat the shit out of him if I get the chance, but that's it."  
Bruce locked eyes with him, something made exponentially more unsettling when done from behind the mask. Jason couldn't really see the direction of his gaze, all he could do was feel it like a tangible force pressing against his skin.

"I swear it to you," he said softly, unwilling to let Grayson or Wayne realize how much this man's opinions mattered to him.

Bruce gave a sharp nod and gestured to the motorcycle set just off the tarmac. "Don't get distracted. We have one goal tonight, to get the Joker back into custody, and that's all."

Jason could feel the grin trying to break free on his face, and he ducked his head in order to hide it. Despite the situation he felt stupidly pleased with himself. Bruce trusted him, trusted him enough to let him come when Wayne would have denied him. That had to mean something, must be some sort of indication that Jason wasn't completely without hope of redemption.

He saluted Dick, Grayson, and Alfred as he kicked the bike into life and peeled out after the long black car.

Gotham was exactly how he remembered it. Bruce's Gotham had been just different enough to unsettle him. It was a constant reminder that it was not his home and Jason was an outsider no matter how warmly he had been welcomed. But this Gotham, Wayne's Gotham, was just as dirty and dark as Jason remembered it. This city would and could swallow him whole if given the opportunity. It would let him drown himself in the chaos that filled it without a backwards glance. This Gotham was just as broken as Jason ever was, and even it still had its small spark of hope.

They canvased the city, circling out from the center of the Narrows in search of their pray. So far the night was quiet, but that couldn't last. The Joker didn't have it in him to stay out of mayhem for every long. Sooner or later something would explode, someone would be killed, and he would be there laughing over the remains. All they could do was try to contain the damage now.

The motorcycle's radio scanner was tuned into all of the police broadcasts running through the city. Between it and Dick back in the cave tapping into every security camera in the city and running facial recognition software, they were bound to find the Joker sooner or later. The stony silence in Jason's ear piece from the Batmobile could be ignored. Bruce was either pleading Jason's case to Wayne or he wasn't, but neither would change tonight.

Tonight would be the end of this, once and for all.

Static crackled over the ear piece and Grayson's voice filtered through. "I think we found our boy. He's on the roof of the children's hospital on the corner of 5th and Green."

That was right around the corner, Jason realized with a jolt. Even before the words were out of Grayson's mouth the radio scanner confirmed it. The report described a man in an Arkham inmate uniform on the roof with a suspicious object. With the sort of luck Gotham had it would be a bomb. Jason grit his teeth and swallowed down the bile and anger that threatened to consume him. The Joker had a sick obsession with hurting those least able to defend themselves.

"We'll be there in ten," Wayne's voice crackled over the radio.

Jason would be there in three. By the time the Batmen arrived there wouldn't be anything left of the Joker to take into custody. He didn't like lying to Bruce, but some sacrifices had to be made. Some men couldn't be controlled by fear. Some men just needed to die.

The ride to the hospital was lost in a blur of speed and adrenalin. He was hardly aware of where he stashed the motorcycle, or how he made his way through the panicked hospital. Wide, frightened eyes watched him from rooms all along the halls as Jason raced to the top floor of the building. He ignored the nurses' shouts, the doctors' questions, everything but his goal fell away. At the first note of Bruce's voice in his ear Jason ripped the communicator off and threw it back somewhere over his shoulder. He didn't need Bruce talking him out of this now, not when he was so close.

The maintenance door to the roof opened with a bang as he kicked his way through it. A man dressed in a dull orange jump suit whipped around to face him. The white of his face was ghoulish against the dark of the night, and the deep, tattooed red of his lips. Lines of age cracked the man's face as he smiled wide and unrestrained at the sight of Jason. 

The dark circles under the Jokers eyes crinkled into something manic and dangerous.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise. Look who we have here!" he said, and the tenor of his voice rubbed Jason raw on the inside like sandpaper. "You'd think that if you murdered a man and carved little bats all over his mangled corpse you would get the Batman. I guess junior is good enough."  
Jason reached under his shirt and pulled free the blade he'd had hidden there. Bloodshot eyes followed the motion of the knife and then found their way to Jason's face. The Joker grinned still wider.

"Nice. Though, I have to say, I'm a bit more fond of my toy then I am of yours." His hand swept down to indicate the limps under his shirt, and for the first time Jason noticed the cable wrapped around his thumb and snaking up under his clothing.

Well fuck, Jason thought, it is a bomb.

His hand closed tighter around the handle of the knife. He could probably throw it hard and fast enough to take the Joker out before he could pull the trigger, but that was a big risk. One screw up and a whole building full of kids would be blown to hell and it would be on Jason's conscience. He wanted the bastard gone, but not enough to kill off a bunch of kids with him.

The Joker rocked on his long feet and slowly began to pace around Jason. His eyes rove up and down his frame, taking in the domino mask and the tightness in Jason's shoulders. Whatever he saw in Jason's face must have pleased the Joker because he threw back his head and laughed.

"Kid, I have to say, I like you. Missed you, even. You had style, showed a certain disregard for collateral damage I respect in an adversary," he said brightly, wriggling thick brows in Jason's direction.

It took every last ounce of strength for Jason to stop himself from screaming.

"I don't want you're respect. I just want you dead." Maybe now was the time to do it. The window of opportunity was closing. Bruce and Wayne would be here in under three minutes by his estimation. If he was going to kill the monster it had to be now. If he got him talking, got him distracted enough, it might work.

"Oh, lots of people do!" Joker scuttled closer, still out of the knife's reach but now near enough to leer. "Lots of people, but not your dear old Daddy Bats. He's got a thing for me, you know. Likes having a ying to his psychotic little yang."

He made a vicious swipe with the knife, aiming for the thump the trigger wire was wrapped around. Joker danced backwards and out of danger with a wiggle of his intact fingers.

"Ah, ah, you don't really want to blow up the kiddies, now do you?" Joker laughed again, high and piercing, the sound that filtered through Jason's brain in the dead of night when he thought he might be dead once more. "Then again, maybe you do? It seemed to have worked out well enough for you."

Jason snarled and lunged again. This time his fist made contact. He smashed it into Joker's nose. The crunch that followed was hardly satisfying. The knife sliced through the trigger cable like it was butter. Again, he drove his fists into any points of flesh reachable. The world turned red around the edges as Jason let his body fall into autopilot. All he could focus on was how hard he hit, how much pain and misery he could transmute into this man in this one moment.

"Jason, that's enough!"

Years of training brought the fist aimed for the Joker's now bloodied, swollen face up short. It was Wayne's voice, deeper and harsher then Bruce's had any chance at being. He didn't want to take his eyes off the prize, didn't want to look away from his goal, but Jason had never been able to ignore Bruce Wayne.

"That's enough, Jason. The hospital is safe, you stopped him. Don't take this any further." The most all-encompassing sense of vertigo swept over Jason, made him stager backwards slightly, away from the two Batmen standing on either side of the maintenance door, away from the bloody mess he'd made of the Joker. He knew that voice, that tone of calm compassion, and it had never come from that mouth before.

Batman, his Batman, stepped forward slowly. The lines of anger around his mouth were deep set and grim, but for once it didn't look like they were directed at Jason.

"It's not enough," he shouted. "It'll never be enough, not after what he did to me."

"Jason—" the younger Batman began, but a high, wheezing laugh cut him off.

"Let's see if you come back after this too," the Joker cackled.

There was a gun in his hand. Insanely, Jason wondered where he's been hiding it as the barrel came level with his face and fired.


	13. Chapter 13

It happened in an instant. One moment Batman was standing near him, the next he was tackling Jason to the ground so fast and so hard it left him breathless. There was a dull thud, a jolt that ran through the body covering Jason's own, and the immediate realization that Bruce had just been shot. His Bruce.

"Shit," he hissed, struggled to sit up. Bruce pushed hard on his shoulders and kept Jason from rising further then a sitting position. He knelt over Jason, body curved inwards to form a barrier between the Joker and Jason himself. The suit was too dark to tell if there was blood anywhere. Reason told him that the Kevlar armor should have stopped most bullets, but that did little to reassure Jason at the moment.

Joker was still laughing, gun held high and proud. He squinted one eye, clamped his tongue between his teeth in mock concentration and took aim for a second hit. The telltale hiss of a throwing knife split the air and suddenly there was a bat shaped blade protruding from the end of the Joker's gun. He had half a second to marvel over it as he pulled the trigger and then a sharp CRACK made Jason flinch despite himself.

At first he had no idea what happened. Bruce hadn't been shot again, that much was clear. He didn't feel any pin pricks of pain on his own body, and the younger Bruce was slowly straightening from the crouch he'd fallen into when he threw the knife. Everyone was fine.

The Joker toppled over backwards and moaned.

It backfired, Jason realized. The gun backfired.

Something similar had happened when he and Bruce fought all those months ago, back when he'd first revealed himself as more than just the Red Hood. One glance at the Joker now was enough to prove to him that his own encounter with a batarang and a gun paled in comparison. He remembered the leather gloves covering his hands getting ripped up,   
remembered that it hurt like hell, but that was nothing.

The backfire had taken off two of the Joker's fingers, leaving bloodied stumps twitching and oozing on his right hand. The two fingers were nowhere to be seen, and Jason took a perverse pleasure in the fact that one of them was Joker's trigger finger. He thrashed from side to side, still grinning impossibly wide even as he cursed and hissed in pain.

With supreme effort Jason tore his gaze away from the dark eyes watching him and back to Bruce. He didn't seem to be in any pain, but it was hard to tell with the cowl on. Bruce's general look of severity tended to appear painful even at the best of times.

"Are you ok?" Jason asked, and was proud when his voice remained relatively calm.

Bruce gave a stiff nod. Now that the immediate danger was past the awkwardness was creeping in between them. Jason could feel it like a tangible thing as Bruce straightened up and took a step back. His hand twitched half way out, like he wanted to help Jason up, but the action was aborted almost immediately. Instead he stood there looking like an idiot in a bat suit who didn't know what to do with himself.

It would have been funny if it wasn't so frustrating.

The younger Bruce spared a moment to gaze down at the Joker before turning his attention back to Jason. He smiled ever so slightly, just the subtlest of upturns along the edges of his lips, but it was enough to make the dread churning in Jason's stomach lessen. Bruce couldn't be all that angry at him if he was going to be throwing around smiles. He wasn't so different from his older self that grins came easily.

"You did well," he said like he was talking to an equal, not some unstable punk.

Jason couldn't stand to look at him anymore. Couldn't stand to look at either version of Bruce Wayne. They had to know what he'd come here intending to do, and neither one of them was calling him on his lie.

"What are you going to do with Joker now?" he asked, still not looking up at the Batmen standing on either side of him.

Bruce, the older Bruce, sighed. "Back to Arkham, they can deal with him there."

Anger burned in his chest, but Jason forced himself to ignore it. What good would it do to bitch and moan at Bruce now? They weren't going to let him kill the clown freak, and Jason couldn't bring himself to try with Dick's Bruce standing there watching. His own Bruce might realize how much of a lost cause Jason was, but Dick's Bruce still thought he was mostly a decent person. It would be cruel to ruin that mental image.

The Joker had fallen silent. He watched them all, his teeth locked into a warped grin against the pain, and his eyes were sharp. They flitted all over the younger Bruce's suit, took in every detail of its design before moving on to the older, slightly larger Batman. Something flashed in his eyes and they narrowed.

With a willowy sigh he curled up onto his side, back to Jason and the Batmen.

And then he exploded into motion.

Joker moved like a snake though grass, slithering on his belly and knees to lunge at the Bruce standing closest to him. Dick's Bruce. He moved to put himself out of range, but wasn't fast enough. The Joker's mostly uninjured hand shot out, and there was something silvery in it. The pop of compressed air rang in Jason's head, and suddenly there was a knife's blade slipping between the padding into Batman's armor.

Bruce grunted on impact.

Joker howled with laughter and Jason watched in horror as sparks of electricity began to dance from a thin cable and into Bruce's side. Jury-rigged Taser, he thought even as he dove for Joker's hand.

"NO! No! This is perfect! This, this right here, is it!" Joker cackled. He curled himself around the Taser's grip in his hand, elbowing and kicking at Jason in frenzy. "I'm going to win! Me! Only me!"

The words echoed another conversation, another moment of panic, but Jason barely registered them. Joker was pulling at his shirt with the bloodied hand, trying to get the Taser wire to touch the severed trigger wire for the bomb. He was going to kill them all, blow himself up and them along with him.

Darkness descended over Jason, ripping him away from the Joker. Batman, his Batman, flung him across the roof towards the still twitching Bruce with a snarled, "Go!"

He grabbed the Taser wire in his gloved hand and yanked, pulling it free from Joker's fumbling grasp. Jason darted backwards, grabbing Bruce before he could fall and the last tremor ran through him. Joker twisted, moved like a creature devoid of bones, and lashed out. He clawed at Batman's face and raved.

Batman ignored him entirely. His focus was on the bomb strapped underneath the Joker's shirt. He pulled the thin prison material apart like it was paper and cursed. Jason couldn't see what prompted the reaction, not with the Batman's brought back blocking his view. Batman pulled and tugged, but he wasn't getting anything as far as Jason could tell.

"It's on a timer," he hissed, glancing over his shoulder at Jason and Bruce. "Sixty seconds left."

Shit! Jason cast around wildly, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to shove the bastard that wouldn't get them or a building full of sick kids killed. Shit.

"Parking garage. It's closed for repairs," Bruce pointed to the left, at a dark building Jason hadn't even noticed.

Batman moved. He pulled the Joker up off the ground and seemed to fly to the far edge of the roof, parallel with the parking garage. The Joker laughed.

"Deactivate the bomb!" he demanded.

Joker shook his head and laughed harder.

"How do I get the vest off you?"

Again the Joker shook his head.

"You don't! It doesn't come off." Joker leaned closer, nose to nose with Batman, narrowed his eyes and smiled. "Save me."  
"No."

Bruce hurled Joker over the side of the building. He sailed through the air, still laughing madly, and tumbled head over heels onto the top floor of the parking garage. He lay still for a moment, shouting "I win," at the top of his voice. Batman raced from the edge of the roof, engulfing Jason with his cape from one side while Bruce did the same from the other.

And then the bomb exploded.

It was anticlimactic. That was the first thought that found its way through Jason's head. It didn't even shake the hospital building. He peaked out over Batman's arm towards the parking garage, and was shocked to find that it was perfectly intact. Without really thinking about it he pulled away from both Bruces and ran to the edge of the roof.

The Joker was still there, right were Batman had thrown him. The front of his shirt was gone, as was a good portion of his skin. It looked like a chunk of his chest had simply been ripped off, little flecks of red scattered around him and on the side of the hospital building. His chin was burnt and bloodied as well, with raw chunks missing from it.

Jason backed up and ran at the edge. He tucked his feet up under him, cleared the roof and rolled over his shoulder into the parking lot. His legs moved on their own, slipping only slightly in the blood beginning to pool around the Joker's body.

His chest was still rising and falling. He was still alive.

Slowly, the Joker's head lolled to the side. He squinted one dark eye up at Jason, the other either taken out in the blast or swollen shut. Slowly, crookedly, he grinned.

"You never meant to take out the building. Just Batman. When he got close enough. You were going to blow the bomb when he would be caught in the blast as well," Jason muttered.

He couldn't keep his eyes from roving over the carnage. He'd seen a lot, done a lot, but he'd never seen a man's guts trying to spill out of him.

"Bats and me— got a connection," Joker said. His voice was reedy and breaking.

"You never meant to kill yourself or him, did you?"

"Save me."

Jason closed his eyes. They were hot and burning and it was suddenly too hard to see. His throat was closing up and his head was spinning like the world was ending. It wasn't, he knew it wasn't, but it was coming damn close. So damn close.

This was what he'd wanted for years. This, just this. The Joker beaten and torn and dying in pain the same way Jason died in pain. He could have everything, all that he wanted, and all he had to do was stand back up and walk away.

"I might not kill you, but I don't have to save you." The words tumbled past numb lips and fell like pebbles to the ground. He forced his eyes open, made himself look down into the face of the man that haunted his nightmares. Joker just smiled.

A hand fell heavily onto his shoulder. Jason didn't need to look up to know who it was. With suddenly stiff limbs he pushed himself up onto his feet, ignoring the wet trails that made their way down his cheeks. Bruce, his Bruce, led him away from the scene and over to his younger counterpart waiting near the stairs.

"Go with him, back to the cave. I'll follow after the police get here."

Jason nodded mechanically and fell into step with Bruce as they slipped like shadows from the garage and back to the batmobile. They rode in silence. Bruce tried once to pull him into some sort of conversation, but Jason felt numb. He couldn't make himself respond, couldn't even take in what was being said to him. In the end Bruce lifted one hand off of the steering wheel and squeezed Jason's shoulder in silent support.

The engine hadn't even died fully before Dick was hurling himself at the doors of the car and wrenching them open. His bright blue eyes were unobstructed in their concern, more honest than Jason knew what to do with.

"Bruce? Bruce, are you ok?" He stepped away from the car just enough for Bruce to slip out but no further. Jason climbed from his own seat and watched as if from far away while Dick struggled to contain himself. He wanted to inspect the point of impact, where there was still a thin blade piercing Bruce in the side, Jason realized now that he had the presence of mind to think about anything at all.

"He needs help, Alfred," he muttered. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair and tugged at the strands because it was something to do and his hands shouldn't be still just yet. 

"The Joker shot him with some fucked up version of a Taser. Got right between the Kevlar lining."

Alfred had a strange look on his face. Jason couldn't figure out what it meant and couldn't bring himself to care past the fact that he hoped he hadn't made the man hate him any more than before the quagmire that was tonight's patrol.

"We saw. Young Master Dick was quite adept at getting us security camera footage of the event. Mater Bruce will be home shortly, he departed the scene just before you both arrived," Alfred said at last, turning away from Jason and instead focusing on the Bruce that was currently present.

Bruce pushed back the cowl and raised an eyebrow at Dick. "You hacked the city's security cameras?"

"I hacked the city's security cameras."

"Good job."

Dick smirked.

"Are you alright?"

Jason ignored the question. Alfred was good at what he did, had always been the one to patch them up when he or Bruce got injured back in the good old days. Even still, it was calming to watch as he ushered Bruce to the examination table always set up and ready off in the corner, Dick close at his heals. They pulled the suit off bit by bit, and Jason was positive that his own Bruce had simplified the design at some point. He couldn't recall a time ever watching him pull his breast plate off in three separate pieces.

"Jason?"

"I'm fine," he said shortly, glancing at Grayson and then away. He could hear a motorcycle in the distance, making its way to the entrance of the cave. His Bruce would be here in a matter of moments, and then what ever camaraderie Grayson might feel towards Jason would be gone. It couldn't stay once the truth of what Jason tried to do got out.

"You're not fine." There were very few times that Jason could remember Grayson ever sounding angry, and most of those times had been directed at Jason anyway. That was why, when he turned to face the accusation in Grayson's voice, he was shocked to find the sympathy. Hell, there was even understanding staring back at him out of those blue eyes.

"I don't think you've been fine in a long time. After what he put you though, how could you be?"

"You have no idea what I've been through so don't give me your fake sympathy crap," Jason snarled. His fists clenched reflexively and he wanted to hit someone, preferably   
Grayson. But he couldn't, not when he was looking at Jason with Dick's eyes.

"Alfred told me about Al Ghul. Dick filled in the rest. I have a fairly good understanding of what happened to you, and you know what? This isn't fake sympathy, this isn't pity. This is family, and you're a part of it and damn it, you're going to have to get used to it!" Grayson shouted, the tail end of his words drowned out only slightly by Batman pulling back into the cave on Jason's discarded motorcycle.

Grayson reached out, hooked his hand into the collar of Jason's jacket and yanked him forward. For the second time in twenty four hours Jason found himself the recipient of a crushing hug, and he didn't know what to do about it. He didn't what to believe what the tightness of Grayson's embrace implied, because then everything he'd been doing for the last five years was meaningless. What the fuck was the point of staying away from this house and these people if they were this ready to embrace him now?

"You're not in this alone," Grayson muttered, and Jason's arms rose to return the embrace.

He took a deep breath before carefully extracting himself from Grayson's arms, mindful of the injured leg. At some point he should probably apologize for that, because he was pretty sure it was one of his slightly unnecessary explosions that gave Grayson the injury in the first place. He'd been making a point at the time.

Batman swept across the room like some sort of living shadow to Bruce's side. The injury wasn't bad. The blade as thin and sharp, but had only managed to penetrate half way through the Kevlar. If the Joker's weapon had had more propulsion behind it the wound may well have been fatal but, this time at least, Bruce was lucky.

"I'll give you the schematics for the updated suit. He did the same thing to me years ago," Jason's Bruce said simply. And it was true, wasn't it? He was Jason's. He was the one that jumped in front of a bullet, he was the one that stopped Jason from beating Joker's face in, he was the one that Jason was going to have to live with now. Dick's Bruce was great, but he wasn't up for grabs and honestly never had been.

Dick's Bruce nodded his head in thanks, but raised an eyebrow at Dick again. The kid was shifting from foot to foot and looking as guilty as a boy trained to control his facial   
expressions at will could look.

"I kind of already have that. And the upgrades for the batmobile, and the blueprints for the plane. Also, I may have improved your firewall just a little bit," he muttered, looking anywhere but at a face belonging to either Bruce Wayne.

Bruce sighed and pushed the cowl back from his face. He still looked older than his counterpart, still looked harder and meaner and more suited to a Gotham ready to swallow the unsuspecting whole, but something had changed. Some of the tightness around his eyes was gone, some of the stiffness in his shoulders. He shrugged Dick's guilty confession off   
with a tired, "Just leave me the necessary information to maintain it," before turning to face Jason.

His heart jumped into his throat and hid there like a coward no matter how many times Jason tried to swallow it back down. He wasn't afraid of his Bruce, never had been, but confrontations for them tended to go poorly. If not for the support he could positively feel radiating out of Grayson beside him Jason might have lashed out. It was better, after all, to get the first hit in and end the fight early.

"The Joker was taken to Gotham General. They don't expect him to live through the night, not with the injuries he has." There were no accusations in Bruce's voice, no hostility at all. He was merely recounting fact.

"Good," Jason replied instantly, because it was the truth. He hoped Joker was dead before they even got him to the hospital and nothing any Bruce said would make him feel guilty about that.

"You didn't kill him. You stopped yourself." Bruce cast the assertion out like he was fishing; hoping for a bite but unsure if his bait was good enough to lure in the prize.

"I wanted to. I would have if you hadn't shown up when you did." That fact wasn't going to change. He would have done it and he would have done it gladly. Just not with an incarnation of Bruce Wayne watching him while he did the deed.

Bruce nodded. "But you didn't. That's what counts."

"I'm not going to suddenly be an angel or something here. I'm not going to run around and pull my punches and let the scum out on the streets of this city hurt innocent people. I'm not going to just stop doing what I was doing because you want me to," he shouted, stepping right up into Bruce's personal space. They had to understand that, they had to realize that he wasn't suddenly going to be Mr. Sunshine and Daisies just because the Joker finally got what he deserved.

"You're not killing anyone. You're not going on patrol for a very, very long time. You're going to stay here, and you're going to let us help you," Bruce growled right back, rising to the bait like he always did.

Grayson and Alfred were suddenly just there. They crowded around Jason and Bruce, Allred in such a quietly dignified way that Jason couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed at his outburst. Grayson, on the other hand, was looking at Jason with such earnestness, such clear desire to make things better, that it almost hurt to look at him.

"Stay with the people who care about you, and want to help you and want to be with you," he said, squeezing Jason's arm in an oddly comforting way. Something was sticking in his throat as he watched Grayson, Alfred, hell even Bruce in his emotionally stunted, fucked up way, try. They were all trying so hard, and why hadn't he seen this before? Had it been there all along, just waiting for him to come home and collect on? Or had his death brought it out? Had his whole stupid, fucked up, nightmare existence these past few years brought out the worst in him but the best in all of them?

Dick, still standing over by his Bruce, gagged sarcastically and winked at Jason when the sound brought his attention snapping around to them. He pointed over his shoulder at the dimming circle of light, the one that had been there since Jason and Bruce first came to this world looking for their little Robin.

"Sorry to kill the moment and all, but we have to go. Apparently we're using Superman as a battery and that's probably not too astrous for him."

The circle around Jason parted slightly, enough for him to slip past them and go say his good-byes. The corners of his lips pulled up into a grin at Grayson's muttered, "Was I really that annoying as a kid?" and the vague sounds of affirmation both Alfred and his Bruce gave in response.

Dick's eyes were over bright and his smile was just a little too wide and Jason was an expert at knowing when a little boy was trying too hard to play the tough guy. He'd been doing it his whole life, and maybe now it was time to think about stopping. Not for ever, not anytime soon, but eventually. When he didn't need to be the tough guy all the time.

He crouched down to be at eye level with Dick and pulled him into the same tight hug that Grayson had used on him a moment ago. Dick returned the gesture without a second thought, proving once again that Richard Grayson was something special. "Take care of yourself, and don't let Bruce take himself too seriously. It's bad for his health," Jason said thickly, holding on for one more long moment before pulling away.

Dick nodded, looking down and scrubbing at his face before his gaze shot back up to Jason. He was going to cry, but not here, not if front of everyone. "Stop being anti-social and get Wally and the team into the game. It's time this Batman learned to play with others," he replied, and Jason found himself really enjoining the shit eating grin on Dick's face.  
He stepped back, and Bruce took his spot before Jason. The younger, brighter, less beaten down version of the man that changed Jason's whole life. The man that made it infinitely better and infinitely worse. Bruce didn't waste time with preamble, he simply reached out and pulled Jason into a crushing hug that put Grayson's to shame.

"This isn't goodbye. We'll see you again," he said softly into Jason's hair. It wasn't even a promise. It was said with such simple conviction that it could be nothing but fact. "Give them a chance, talk with Dick and Alfred when you get frustrated by things. It's not going to be easy, but they are all there for you."

Jason pulled back, nodding and trying to ignore the way his eyes were stinging and his throat was closing up. It was the same allergies that tended to follow him around whenever he as with this Bruce. He smile, a real, relived smile. It wasn't over. He wasn't magically fixed, and the problems he had with Bruce were not magically gone. But it was better. They were going to make it better, because life was hard and life sucked but it was all they had and they were going to make the most of it.

Bruce smiled at him, one of the only true smiles he'd ever seen on any version of that face, and stepped away. Dick waved, his whole body moved with the gesture, shouting promises to return with Wally in tow next time, as he faded into the light. Bruce lingered a moment longer, his eyes on his older self, some silent understanding passing between them, and then he too disappeared into the light.

Jason took a deep breath, watching the spot they had stood only seconds ago. They'd be back. In the meantime he had things he had to take care of here, people he needed to find and more he had to make amends with, but there was time. There was nothing but time now.

"Come on upstairs, it's late. You've got to be starving and we have a lot of catching up to do," Grayson said, hobbling up beside Jason with his crutches and a hopeful grin. He could see echoes of the skinny little kid he used to be all over Grayson's face now and it was hard to think of him as anyone other than Dick. That same expression had been on the kid's face half the time Jason was around him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess we do," he muttered, looking past Dick towards Bruce. Bruce nodded in agreement, and gestured towards the stairs, silent and taciturn but the olive branch was there.

"It's good to have you home, Mater Jason," Alfred added, like he was welcoming Jason back from a long vacation rather than a five year stay in crazyville.

Jason allowed himself to smile. Tomorrow would be hard. There would be work and questions and things he didn't want to do but had to anyway. Tonight there was nothing but the feeling of finally, finally coming home.


	14. Chapter 14

Epilogue

Bruce pulled his collar up higher against his neck and tucked his chin. The rain was soft, but the air around him was cold and biting through the threadbare jacket he wore. The gloves on his hands had holes in the fingertips, and if he planned on staying out for more than the few hours this reconnaissance mission should take there would be serious concerns about frost bite. As it stood, tonight was about a first encounter.

The shuffling pace Bruce had set himself came to an end as he allowed himself to lean against the side of a brick building. The position afforded him slight protection from the coming storm as well as a good vantage point with which to watch the tenement building Jason Todd and his mother lived in. Preliminary research had revealed the precarious nature of Catherine Todd's health, and the large part her cocktail of drugs had to do with their current situation. The rent on their small, two room apartment had not been paid in months, and the landlord had been more than willing to complain to a faceless stranger last week about his concerns over turning out a women with such a young child. He hadn't thought twice about the three months worth of rent that had been sent to him in Catherine Todd's name, and Bruce felt marginally better about Jason's predicament and the time Bruce himself had to work with knowing that Jason at least had a roof over his head at night.

Catherine Todd was a problem. Bruce's first instinct was to have Jason removed from the situation entirely, have him placed in a foster home that would keep a six year old boy away from drugs and all the complications that came along with them. While he still had not ruled out that option, Bruce was at least willing to admit within the privacy of his own head that it would be better in the long run for Jason if he could keep the boy as far away from Bruce Wayne and the complications he brought with him as possible. On the other hand, Bruce wasn't certain he would be able to allow Jason to live with another Gotham family if Jason was going to be put into the foster system. Not knowing who Jason would one day be, not knowing how much Dick and Alfred had loved him and would love him again if given half the chance.

Currently Bruce found himself considering giving Jason the same Wayne foundation scholarship that he'd given Artemis. It would get Jason into the best middle school in the city, pay for room and board so that he could be housed on campus like their international students, and give him a much needed change of scenery. The only question was if Catherine Todd would give her consent, if she was even in her right mind enough to give consent.

The rain fell harder around Bruce, who pressed back against the side of the building with a bit more purpose. The streetlamp that should have brightened hours ago stood guard outside the tenement building, skeletal and unwelcoming in a way that couldn't really be explained. No one walked the streets, which wasn't really a surprise with the chill and the rain being what they were. Most people in the Park Row district of Crime Ally knew enough not to tempt the fates by leaving their homes at a time like this.  
Which was why Bruce straightened up almost instantly when the tenement building's crooked front door was thrown open and a young boy ran out onto the sidewalk. Bruce could tell even before he started making his way across the street that is was Jason. The boy was panting, a flush high on his thin cheeks as he looked up and down the street. The moment Jason spotted Bruce he ran forward, waving his arms and shouting.

"Help! Please, mister. My mom needs help," Jason sobbed. He had no shoes on, only socks with holes in the heels that were growing damp and heavy as he stood there in the gathering rain.

"Take me to her," Bruce said at once. He ignored the fact that the persona he was currently disguised as would never have said something so plainly and authoritatively. He had a cold, unpleasant pit of knowledge trying to force its way up from his gut and into his mind, but Bruce ignored it for the time being, allowing Jason to instead clench his small, cold fingers around Bruce's much larger hand and drag Bruce back into the building and up the flight of stairs.

"She won't wake up. I don't know what to do. No one else would answer their doors," Jason said in a breathless rush. He pulled Bruce along behind him and onto the second floor landing, not even pausing to push open the second door on the right open. Jason instead ran himself into the thin plane of wood, knocking the door ajar with his face and shoulder more than anything else.

Inside the apartment was a mess of old newspapers and clothing thrown about the room. Bruce took a second to catalogue the room, to check for any signs of danger aside from the pills and hypodermic needles he knew would be found here. There was nothing. No dishes left dirty in the sink, no trash overflowing from the can near the dented metal refrigerator. Aside from the newspapers and the clothing the apartment looked about as neat as an apartment made half out of rotting wood could hope to look. Proof that Catherine at least tried to care for her son.

Jason led Bruce into the second room, one that very obviously served as both Catherine and Jason's bedroom judging by the two mattresses placed on opposite corners of the room. Catherine was on the far mattress, curled on her side. Her hair fell into her still face and her lips looked slightly blue. Bruce pulled a cell phone from the folds of his old coat, one that was as beaten and drab as the clothing he currently wore but housed inner circuitry modeled after the Watchtower's own communications devices, and therefore nearly guaranteed to get reception no matter where he was.

Bruce hit the buttons 9-1-1 and handed the phone to Jason, who looked like he was nearing tears.

"Tell them what your address is and that your mother needs an ambulance," Bruce said as he dropped to his knees beside Catherine.

With great care he rolled her onto her back and tipped Catherine's head backwards. Her airway was clear, nothing choking her or obstructing her breathing at first glance. But she wasn't drawing breath, and a preliminary check for a pulse revealed nothing. Bruce began CPR, pressing down on her chest in five pumps before breathing into Catherine's mouth, trying to encourage her lungs to work on their own. There was an open pill bottle on the floor beside her bed.

Bruce continued his efforts until the paramedics arrived, Jason hovering over his shoulder. Bruce allowed himself to fade into the background as Catherine was lifted onto a gurney and rushed from the room, the faintest of heart beats pumping away. Jason followed, cell phone still clutched in his hands. That was fine. It would work as an easy way to track the boy should the ambulance take Catherine anywhere other than Gotham General.

It took Bruce a good twenty minutes to get to an outpost hidden in the city, change his clothing into the designer slacks and button down shirt more accustomed to his public persona and make his way to the hospital. He called Alfred along the way.

"We need a suitable reason to be at Gotham General in no later than ten minutes," he said by way of hello after Alfred's crisp greeting.

There followed a brief moment of silence and then Alfred replied, "I do belief that Master Richard has ingested a copious amount of kiwi, which has made his tong swell up and itch. I suggest we take him to the emergency room, Sir, just to be sure it is not a more severe allergic reaction."

Bruce considered telling Alfred that Dick should stay home, that he should be kept as far away from what was sure to be a difficult evening as possible, but something stopped him. Dick was a mature, responsible boy, and someone with far more compassion then Bruce could ever hope to have. But what really stilled his concern was the hurt Dick would feel if he discovered Bruce and Alfred had interacted with Jason while Dick himself had been kept out of the equation.

"Yes. We should be certain his allergies don't act up. I'll meet you in the emergency waiting room in ten minutes."

"Very good, Sir."

Bruce was good at what he did, could pick up and put down whatever personality he needed for whatever moment he happened to find himself in. He didn't have to fake the concern he exuded as he and Alfred walked Dick into the emergency room and demanded someone assure him that his adoptive son was not going to die of allergic shock. The concern simply came from other stimuli. Dick plaid his part to perfection, had gone so far as to actually eat some of the fruit he was allergic to in order to bring a note of authenticity to the complaint.

Alfred was the first to spot the small boy sitting alone in a waiting room chair. He glanced at Bruce, waited for the slight nod of approval and then politely and subtly detached himself from the group moving into a hospital room.

"Mr. Wayne, your son should be just fine," the small, uncertain looking hospital intern said, clutching his clip board closer to his chest as he spoke. Bruce nodded to show his understanding, one hand on Dick's shoulder. "He didn't eat enough of the kiwi for the allergic reaction to cause too much of a problem. We'll give you a prescription for some medication, just to sooth the irritation, but it should go away on its own in a day or two."

Dick took the prescription slip and hopped off of the examination bed without a word. He waited until Bruce ushered him out of the room before making strait for Alfred. He sat beside Jason, who had his head leaning against Alfred's shoulder and was sniffling into a cotton handkerchief that Bruce had not seen since Dick had first come to live with them at the mansion.

Dick sat himself down on Jason's other side. Bruce watched as Jason's eyes followed the motion, lingering on Dick before dropping back to the floor.

"Master Jason has had a trying night," Alfred said softly, looking up from the bowed head to pin Bruce with his perceptive stare. There was no need to tell Alfred or Dick that this small boy was the reason they were all here.

A startled cough pulled Bruce's attention away from the three seated on the uncomfortable plastic chairs and onto a grim faced doctor. This man was older then the intern that had seen to Dick, a face that had seen the unhappy endings that Gotham could produce more times than most. Gotham General was where all the trauma cases ended up.

"Are you here with the boy?" the doctor asked. There was a name sewn into his white jacket; James Wilson.

"I know the family. How is Mrs. Todd doing?" Bruce replied. He could guess, judging from the expression on Dr. Wilson's face.

Dr. Wilson guided Bruce a few steps further away, glancing back at Jason as he did so. "Is there anyone else? Any members of the family we can contact?"

There wasn't. Bruce had done extensive research before attempting to make any plans regarding Jason's future. His father had been killed by one of the gangs in Crime Ally barely a year after Jason had been born, and Catherine had been an only child. There were no concerned aunts or uncles, no grandparents waiting in the wings to swoop in and save Jason. There was no one at all except for the women Bruce had found blue-lipped and still in her bed less than a few hour before.

"No. I'm afraid Catherine was a single parent. What happened, Dr. Wilson?" Bruce pressed.

He watched as the doctor glanced back at Jason once more, lips pressed together. There was something almost resigned in his expression when he turned back to focus on Bruce. 

"Mr. Wayne, I can't tell you the particulars of—"

"You can tell me or you can tell my lawyers. If anything happened to Catherine I will be the one looking after her son." It hadn't been what Bruce wanted to say, not really. He'd had no intention of allowing Jason to walk the same path his alternate counterpart had. He was not going to let the same horrors haunt Jason Todd in this world and in this life if there was a way to avoid it, but the decision was made the moment the words left Bruce's mouth. They were out there, a part of the world, something he could never take back. If 

Catherine Todd was no longer of this world then Bruce would make damn sure Jason had someone to turn to other then the Gotham foster system.

Dr. Wilson sighed, eyes flitting to the ground before finding Bruce's face again. "Catherine Todd didn't make it. She over dosed on a narcotic. We attempted to revive her, but there was nothing we could do, Mr. Wayne. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but if it is any consolation at all I can tell you she was in no pain when she passed."

Bruce had heard something similar to this speech once before. Not with his own parents, that news had been delivered to Alfred rather than to Bruce himself. The Graysons', however, had been different. The news of their deaths had been delivered to Bruce. He still remembered how it had felt to learn that they had been killed, to learn that because of one selfish night when he's chosen to be Bruce Wayne instead of Batman a child was now orphaned. It had made the world thicker somehow, harder to breathe in.

He felt that same feeling now, and marveled slightly that Batman still had a weak enough hold on Bruce Wayne for him to be able to feel such tragedy.

"I understand. Thank you, doctor. I'm sure you did everything you could," Bruce replied on automatic, already turning away, turning back to his family sitting in a huddled group around Jason. He would have to make a few calls, have to get the paperwork written up before the end of the night if he wanted to keep Jason here, with them instead of in a children's home somewhere in the city. They would have to prepare a room. Possibly the one that the older version of Jason Todd had stayed in, the one next to Dick's room. 

Catherine would have a funeral with a proper service, something for Jason to find closure in rather than the pauper's burial the city would afford her otherwise.

But all of these things could wait for a few more moments. They could be pressed back, passed over for a bit longer, because a little boy was looking up at Bruce as if Bruce was the last thing anchoring him to this world the way only one other little boy ever had before.

Bruce crouched down in front of Jason's chair. He took in the arm Dick had around Jason's shoulders and the hand Dick used to rub small, soothing circles into Jason's side. He took in the way that Alfred seemed to encompass both the boys, the way he acted as a living shield against which none of the chaos and fear of the hospital could truly penetrate. He took in the way his small family of three was beginning to grow, to expand and reshape themselves into four.

"Hello, Jason. My name is Bruce Wayne," he said, and it felt like a beginning.


End file.
